


still disputed territory

by ophelietta



Category: Hikaru no Go
Genre: Glasses kink, Gratuitous Headcanon, Gratuitous Swearing, M/M, Rooftop Sex, VERY light bondage, akari is a babe, confident!tsutsui, domestic AU, dumb assholes in love, everyone has an opinion on tsutsui's love life, so many feelings, so much food, some background shindou/touya, the most self-indulgent of fic, vulnerable!kaga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-26 20:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10794186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelietta/pseuds/ophelietta
Summary: If anyone had ever bothered to ask him about it, Tsutsui Kimihiro would have described himself as a nice, polite, well-mannered person.Kaga just brought out the fucking worst in him.





	1. Still Disputed Territory

If anyone had ever bothered to ask him about it, Tsutsui Kimihiro would have described himself as a nice, polite, well-mannered person. 

Kaga just brought out the fucking _worst_ in him. 

~

Kimihiro sighs, closing the bedroom door behind him. The high school Go club had gone out for karaoke after school, and as much as he loves them, he never wants to hear another goddamn Hatsune Miku song. _Ever_. _Again._

He's folded up his glasses, shucked off his uniform jacket, and he’s just unbuttoning his dark dress pants when a voice says from his bed, deadpan, 

“Oh no, my virgin eyes.”

Kimihiro does not yelp “like a girl.” He does _not_. 

“And anyway it’s super sexist to say that,” he says later, rambling to himself more than than anything from where he perches on his desk chair, because Kaga has sprawled over his bed, and is reading Kimihiro’s old TeniPuri manga, looking as if he absolutely belongs there in Kimihiro’s bedroom, with his embarrassingly old Voltron posters (passed down from his father); a black-and-white screenshot of Toshiro Mifune napping right next to a goban, sword tucked into the crook of his arms; and Kimihiro’s own ink-and-brush paintings of kifu. He’d been proud of them before, but they seem amateur and childish now that Kaga is there. At least Kimihiro’s pants are firmly buttoned up now, and his glasses are back on his face. “What are you doing here, Kaga?”

Kaga makes a grumpy face, which is to say: his usual face. “You’re stupidly late,” he says, which is a typical non-answer. Kimihiro can’t believe that he actually had a pang the other day where he missed being in the same class as Kaga - actually _missed_ seeing the smug face under its stupid mop of brilliant red hair every day in homeroom. 

Clearly, Kimihiro had been very ill and delusional at the time, and required prompt medical attention. 

“I was out with the Go club,” he says, instead. “Who let you in?”

“Akane,” Kaga says, with a smirk. 

Kimihiro groans. Six-year-old Akane is way too trusting and harbours an unhealthy crush on “Kaga-niichama.” As much as Kimihiro tries to tell her that he is the _worst_ kind of person, Akane just prattles on about how, “Kaga-niichama is strong and cool and has pretty hair and why can’t _you_ have pretty hair, Niichan?” 

“She made me omurice,” Kaga says, his shit-eating grin growing even wider. 

“She is a traitor who knows nothing about the beasts of hearts and men."  

“Shut up. I have it on good authority you bought her strawberry hair ribbons just the other day. She’s a good kiddo,” and there’s something almost wistful in Kaga’s tone that makes Kimihiro look at him sharply. But Kaga just buries his face in Volume 4 again. 

“Hey!” Kimihiro snatches it away, kind of surprised that he’s able to do so, given Kaga’s usually quick reflexes. “No dodging the question! What are you doing here?” 

Without the manga shielding his face, it’s a bit easier to see that Kaga looks more tired than usual. There are dark, bruise-like smudges under his eyes, and Kimihiro wants to say, _You look terrible_ , but he wants an answer more. 

“I just need a place to stay for tonight,” Kaga says, which isn’t really an answer at all. 

Kimihiro bites his lip. He knows - vaguely - that Kaga doesn’t necessarily have the warmest relationship with his father, but… “Did you lock yourself out of your house or something?”

Kaga rolls his eyes, as if Kimihiro is being deliberately obtuse. “Sure, Tsutsui,” he says, sarcastically. “I locked myself out of my own house, because I’m that much of a dumbass.”

“It happens!” 

“It happens to _you_ -“

“It - oh, why are we even arguing about this!? It’s - fine. You can stay here tonight, but you have to be the one to explain why to my mom,” Kimihiro says, satisfied, crossing his arms, sure that that will end the matter. 

Kaga smirks and holds up his cell phone screen, where he’d texted Kimihiro’s mom: _Honoka-sama, is it cool if I crash for the night?_ and Mom had texted back nothing but a series of _!!!!!!_ and thumbs up emojis and hearts.

“Arrrrrgh!” _Typical_. His mom persists in loving Kaga because she watches too many J-dramas and thinks that Kaga is a yankee who secretly has a heart of gold.  

Before his eyes, he sees the telltale three little dots appear on Kaga’s cell phone screen, and his mom has added, in a message surrounded by cute little flowers, _Play safe! WINKY FACE~_  

Kimihiro buries his face in his hands, his humiliation abject and complete. “You realise she has completely the wrong idea about us, right?” he says, his voice muffled through his fingers. 

“Whatever, ‘Kimihiro-chan.’ Your mom approves.” 

“My mom once made friends with a yakuza lieutenant at a pachinko parlour. She is not the best judge of human character.” Kimihiro sighs, and stands up. The universe has spoken, and it has spoken against him, so he might as well go along with it. There’s no point in carving out the small points of disputed territory here. “You’ve eaten dinner, at least. Do you need a bath? You look-“ Kimihiro wrinkles his nose, unable to find a nice word for it. “-Unwashed.”

“Watch out for my delicate, maidenly self-esteem,” Kaga says, surly and charming as always, but Kimihiro is ignoring him already, moving out of the room and ticking things off of his mental checklist. He goes to turn on the bathwater, making sure it’s nice and hot, gathers an extra towel, checks if they have a spare toothbrush that Kaga can use, which they do - it’s pink and glittery because it’s supposed to be a new one for Akane, but it’ll have to do, and Kaga deserves a taste of his own medicine anyway. He gets the guest bedding from the closet, thinking that he can share one of his own pillows with Kaga. 

When he comes back, Kaga seems like he’s fallen asleep on Kimihiro’s bed, the manga spread open on his face. Kimihiro dumps everything in his lap, literally. Kaga makes a winded sound, which is very satisfying, and comes awake swearing.

“That’s your bed for tonight,” Tsutsui says, feeling very dry. Kaga always brings out this side in him, which is mean and vindictive and _very_ good at Go. He lifts Volume 4 off of Kaga’s face, saying reproachfully, “Don’t you know that wrecks the spine?” 

Kaga gives him a vile glare. “I’m your guest. Doesn’t that mean I get the bed?” which just makes Kimihiro snort. 

“You know where everything is in my kitchen, how to fix the air conditioner, and you have your stupid drag racing shows hogging space on my DVR. How does any of that signal ‘guest’?”   

Which leaves Kaga weirdly… speechless. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Finally, he clears his throat, and says, “Rock paper scissors. Best two out of three.”

Kimihiro wins, and loses, and loses, which just makes him throw one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants at Kaga’s head. “Go wash!” he shouts. “You stink!” 

Kaga just goes, “Hai, hai!” like the bastard he is, which leaves Kimihiro making up his “bed” on the floor and muttering to himself about the injustices of the world. He also changes, as quickly as humanly possible, into a t-shirt, pajama pants, and an ancient faded blue Doraemon hoodie. He settles down to do homework for the night, trying not to get distracted by the thought of Kaga washing himself in his apartment, of Kaga sinking into a hot bath. His “good night” alarm goes off at nine,  and he knocks on the door of the room that Akane and Mom share. 

Akane’s already mostly tucked herself in already. She’s wearing her favourite sunflower pyjamas and holding a floppy stuffed rabbit imaginatively named “Mr. Bun-Buns.” 

“Hi Niichan,” she says, rubbing at her eyes, and he tucks the My Little Pony blanket around her so it’s a bit more secure. 

“Hey Akane-chan,” he says. “I heard you made omurice for Kaga-kun, today.”

Akane nods, sleepy. “He looked really hungry, when he came over. So I made him omurice and I drew the ketchup in the shape of a smiley face, like you taught me to. He seemed to like it.” 

“That was really good of you. Really thoughtful.” Her face glows with the praise, and he drops a kiss on her forehead. She’s not a bad kid at all, he reflects. A pretty good one, as a matter of fact. “Light on or light off?”

“Lights off, please.”

“Good night, Akane-chan.”

“Goodnight, Niichan.” 

He taps her cat lamp to shut it off, and makes his way to the bedroom door. From the darkened gloom of Akane’s bedroom, Kimihiro can just make out Kaga standing in the half-lit hallway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

Kimihiro says, softly, “Do you want to say good night to her? I’m sure she’d like it.”

He can’t make out Kaga’s face. “No, that’s… that’s fine. I don’t want to keep her up.”

Kimihiro shuts the door, and flicks on the other hallway light, so he can see Kaga a bit better. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, she-“ And he just manages to keep himself from shrieking. 

Kaga raises an eyebrow, insolent. “What?” he says, but he must know _exactly_ what. 

Kimihiro feels his glasses sliding down his nose. “You - you - you aren’t wearing any clothes!”

“I’m wearing boxers,” Kaga says. “Boxers are clothes. Idiot.” But he’s clearly enjoying the attention, standing in the middle of the hallway, preening, his chest bare and still damp from his bath. 

“What happened to the clothes I lent you?”

“Way too small. Besides, I always sleep in boxers,” which is a mental image that Kimihiro needed _absolutely never_. 

Kimihiro finds himself itching to shove Kaga into his room, but that would mean putting his hands on Kaga’s bare body, and _uggggggh._ No. That way madness lies. 

“I’m going to have a bath!” he shouts. 

Kaga strolls away, whistling. “Whatever. Water’s still warm.” 

Kimihiro scrubs himself off as quickly as he can, and then gets into the bathwater, which is indeed still warm, the wooden cover having kept the heat in. It’s never been a big deal, before, this bathing thing, except that he’s never shared a bath with Kaga before.  

Sometimes, that guy makes him feel like setting himself on fire.

~

 

Kaga, because he likes to make Kimihiro’s life miserable, isn’t underneath the covers when Kimihiro returns from his bath. Instead, he’s still insolently spread across Kimihiro’s bed ( _in his boxers_ ). At least without his glasses, Kaga’s mostly just a blurry, shirtless lump. Less distracting all around. 

His wet hair flops in front of his eyes, so he slicks it back from his forehead. “Have you seen my glasses anywhere?” 

There’s silence, and then Kimihiro feels Kaga’s hands against his, pressing his folded glasses into his palm. “Ah - thank you.” When he slides on his glasses, he sees that Kaga is staring at him strangely. 

“What?” 

Kaga seems startled, then vicious. “Nothing!” He goes right back to his (Kimihiro’s) manga. 

“Well,” Kimihiro says, “I’ve got to get up early for class duties tomorrow, so I’m sleeping now.” 

Kaga doesn’t look up from Volume 5. “Wake me up at the same time, then. I’ll go with you.” 

“You don’t have to,” Kimihiro says, ever practical. “Won’t you be bored if you just have to hang around?”

He just slouches even lower. “I’ve got stuff to do at school,” he says, but refuses to elaborate. 

Kimihiro shrugs in a kind of “suit yourself” way and snuggles into bed. Sleeping like this reminds him of summertimes when he was a kid, in their old apartment, when his father was still alive and they would all sleep in one room in the summer, the fan whirring overhead. 

This is nice, really. He isn’t used to having friends sleep over, even though “friends” is a rather imprecise term for what he and Kaga are to each other. It’s not quite right, but it’s the closest word he can think of, and he drifts off to sleep, trying to think of a better one. 

~

 

He wakes up to Kaga cuddling him. 

Or, rather: Kaga is warm and loose-limbed and sprawled all over him. His chest is still bare and he has one leg thrown over Kimihiro’s hip and there’s - Kimihiro swallows, feeling his eyes cross - something warm and hard pressing against Kimihiro in a way that he is definitely not. Thinking about. At all.

Kimihiro had, just before this, been happily asleep, his dreams warm and uncertain at the edges, but now he is sharply, horrifyingly awake, racked by aroused terror. The tape in his head is shrieking  _holy shit what if he wakes up holy SHIT WHAT THE_ ACTUAL _HELL -_

Okay. Okay. Kimihiro forces himself to think. Perhaps Kaga had just rolled out of bed. Perhaps he had just gravitated towards the nearest warm body. Perhaps he'd had a nightmare, like Akane did, sometimes. Any of these perhapses could be true. 

Kimihiro extricates himself, bit by bit. Kaga turns over in his sleep, mumbling. He looks ridiculous, hair wilder than usual, pillow marks on his face, and for a moment Kimihiro feels something flooding his heart that isn’t just lust. It includes lust, certainly, but it goes further and wider than that: like the way tea seeps into hot water, tendrils of colour deepening, reaching out, touching everything. 

He doesn’t want to think about what any of this means. He doesn't want to want anything at all. 

So instead, he gets up and stumbles back into his own bed. It's cold, as if Kaga left it a long time ago. The clock says that it’s 3:19 in the morning. It takes him a long time to get to sleep after that.

~

 

A few hours later, Kaga is poking him awake. 

With his hands. Not with any other part of his anatomy.  

“Oi,” he says, shoving at his shoulder, and Kimihiro swears at him and fumbles to get his glasses on. 

Kaga looks unfairly good first thing in the morning, hair dripping from where he’s washed it, and he’s still buttoning up his shirt. Kimihiro can see part of Kaga's bare chest that isn’t quite covered by the shirt yet, and it makes him feel like dying. Kaga also looks amused as hell. 

“Didn’t take you for a heavy sleeper,” he says. 

“I’m normally not,” Kimihiro growls, glaring at Kaga, who’s acting like everything is normal, which means he probably doesn’t remember anything that happened last night _not that anything happened_. 

“Didn’t you say you had morning early duties?” Kaga jerks a thumb at the clock. “Shouldn’t you be leaving in like five minutes?”

~

 

Kaga insists on riding Kimihiro’s bike while Kimihiro stands in the back, on the rear pegs. “I don’t trust you to operate heavy machinery right now,” he’d said, and then added, meanly, “You could ride on the handlebars if you wanted,” and then promptly started whistling as Kimihiro went on a long rant about all the terrible physical punishments he would rain down upon Kaga. 

“-And the worst part is,” Kimihiro winds up, clutching at Kaga’s shoulder as he takes a particularly reckless turn, “is that it’s MY BIKE-“ and he’s jostled forward when Kaga brakes, saying, “We’re here.”

“Remember to lock it up afterwards!” Kimihiro yells after him, as Kaga trudges towards the bike area. Kaga just gives a desultory, _yeah, yeah, whatever_ wave.

He makes it into the classroom, still on time for morning duties, only to find that Sarumara Yui has beaten him there. Sarumara is always such a calming presence in the classroom; she’s smiling and gentle and a bit on the quiet side, unlike Kimihiro himself, who is awkward and has a tendency to sweat in social situations that require eye contact and can really only make small talk about Go.  She has long dark hair like a girl from a ukiyo-e painting, but the early morning sunlight touches it, turning it a rich shade of brown. 

“Good morning Tsutsui-kun,” she says, with that crinkly smile that always makes him feel warm inside.

“Good morning, Sarumara-san,” he says, flattening down his hair which had gotten a little wild on their reckless bike ride. “How can I help?”

“If you don’t mind, you can add water to the flowers,” and she starts to hand him the blue vase, which is filled with a few graceful sprays of cherry blossoms,  when Kaga strolls into the classroom, carrying his book bag over one shoulder and a bento in the other hand. It’s covered in a Cinnamoroll furoshiki that Kimihiro recognizes well. 

“Yo, I think this one is yours-“ but he stops dead when he sees Sarumara, his eyes glued to the flower vase that they’re both still holding. 

Sarumara lets go of the vase and smiles, giving him a neat little bow. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Sarumara Yui, the class rep for 1-C.” 

Kaga is still staring at her, pretty rudely, so Kimihiro steps in and says, “This is Kaga Tetsuo. He’s in 1-B.” Kaga doesn’t say anything, so Kimihiro adds, loudly, “He’s a hardened delinquent who’s obsessed with shogi. We went to Haze together.”  

Sarumara continues to smile that gentle smile. “Ah! So you knew Tsutsui-kun from before. How lucky for you - we’re all very happy to have him in class.” 

Kaga still hasn’t said anything. Kimihiro feels his heart sinking. Half the boys in their class are in love with Sarumara; it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary if Kaga joined their ranks. If  Kimihiro wasn’t so busy thinking about how satisfying it would be to throttle Kaga most of the time, he’d probably have a crush on Sarumara too. 

“Ah,” Kaga says, woodenly. “Yeah, sure.” He seems to have forgotten what to do with his hands. He thrusts the bento at Kimihiro, who still has his hands full of flowers. 

“Just put it on my desk,” Kimihiro says. Kaga does. He stands there looking lost for a moment and then he says out of nowhere, “I’ll see you at lunch,” before he stalks out of the classroom, not even saying bye to Sarumara. 

 _Did we have plans for lunch…_?

“Oh dear.” Sarumara is giggling a little, her eyes closing, a few fingers pressed against her mouth. “I think he might have misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood..?” 

Sarumara smiles again.“Ne, that was really thoughtful of him, wasn’t it? To bring your lunch?”

“Not really,” Tsutsui thinks, since Kaga woke up earlier and just grabbed both of the lunches that Mom had left for them, and then kicks himself. “I mean - ah, yeah. _Really thoughtful_ ,” which are two words that he would never use to describe Kaga. 

“But,” Sarumara adds mysteriously, “you should talk with him at lunch and clear up things.” 

“Clear up things?” Kimihiro has this weird feeling that he hasn’t quite woken up yet. “What are you talking about?”

\“Never mind, Tsutsui-kun. The flowers?”

~

 

Kimihiro has an odd feeling that the girls in class are staring at him. 

But he can never quite catch them doing it. They’re like a flock of starlings - as soon as he turns his face so he can see them out of the corner of his peripheral vision, they startle and look away, giggling. There is definite whispering and a definite hissed phrase of “Hanyaaaaan!” and some very heart-filled glances in his direction and he has no idea why. Sarumara looks serene and unruffled as always.

Even Mawatari notices. Mawatari Yoshitaka sits next to him in class, and is a fellow first-year in the Go Club, which is less anemic than Haze’s had been. Mawatari is quick and dry, has the enviable air of someone who doesn’t really care too much about what people think of him, and he has a killer mental game when it comes to Go.  

“What did you do, Tsutsui?” he asks. “Did you confess to Sarumara or something?” 

“No! I don’t know!” he says, desperately. “I don’t know what the fu - what the heck has gotten into them!” 

When lunchtime comes, it’s a relief.  Kimihiro opens his bento - and then promptly shuts it again. 

“Huh,” Mawatari says, in that laconic way of his. “That’s a big ass heart bento.” 

“IT’S A MISTAKE, I’M SURE IT’S A MISTAKE.” 

The door to the classroom slides open, and there’s a distinct and audible “ _Kya!_ ” that goes through most of the females in the class. Kaga is there, looking surly and ill-tempered and not at all an appropriate cause for “Kya”-ing. 

“Yo,” he says, stomping over to Kimihiro’s desk. 

Kimihiro shoves the bento at him. “Prettysurethisismeantforyou,” he says, because the large, childish, ill-formed, pink heart rice balls are definitely Akane’s handiwork. He snatches at Kaga’s bento, which is wrapped up in a Pinki Lili furoshiki. 

There’s another wave of inexplicable “Kya”-ing from the female half of the class. Is one girl waving a handkerchief in the face of another girl who’s fainted? Kaga give his classmates a weird look, which is definitely deserved. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, and Kimihiro happily agrees. It’s been a bizarre morning. 

The rooftop is quiet and mercifully free of his classmates. Kimhiro sighs in relief, and opens up his own bento. His rice balls are still pink, but they are in the shape of beaming little piggies instead, which are somehow much less embarrassing to eat. There’s tamagoyaki, green salad with plum tomatoes, leftover BBQ chicken from the other night, and sliced kiwi and strawberries for dessert. 

“Thanks again for letting me stay over last night,” Kaga says, out of the blue, which is so nice and therefore, un-Kaga-like, that Kimihiro feels his glasses slide down his nose as he’s startled into a reflexive, “You're welcome…?”   

Kaga makes an aggrieved noise. “You should really get those fixed,” he says. “It’s really distracting.” 

“Well, excuse me!” Kimihiro says, pushing his glasses up. “Sorry that _my_ glasses inconvenience _you_.”

“Yeah, you _should_ be sorry,” Kaga mutters, and then grumpily chews on a slice of tamagoyaki. He then adds, “You can take a nap, if you like.” 

“…?”

Kaga is scratching the back of his head, not looking at Kimihiro, but instead up at the sky. “I guess I rolled out of bed this morning and woke you up.”   

Kimihiro decides to go with his HIGHLY edited version of reality, because if he thinks about this morning in too much detail, he’ll explode. “Yeah,” is all he says. 

“ _So_ ,” Kaga says, as if Kimihiro is dense, “you can take a nap. I’ll wake you up when the bell rings.” 

Kimihiro looks around him, at the empty school roof. “Here…? 

And then, in one of those astounding, inexplicable moments that Kimihiro can never predict beforehand, Kaga takes off his jacket, bundles it into a ball, and shoves it onto the ground, with a meaningful jerk of his chin at Kimirhio, who is glad he’s finished he’s eating and therefore, can’t choke on any of his food.

Kimihiro slowly puts his chopsticks back in their holder, and folds up the bento. He takes his time. He peeks a look at Kaga, who is still giving him - not quite a _glare_ , but - a very intense _look_ that says that he won’t let this go. 

So Tsutsui folds up his glasses, and lies down on the school roof, Kaga’s jacket beneath his head. That feels uncomfortable, so he curls up one side. That feels uncomfortable too, so he curls up on the other side. And that also feels uncomfortable, so - 

“Will you stop fidgeting and just go to sleep!?”

“It’s really hard trying to sleep with someone staring at you, willing you to go to sleep!”

“I’m not staring!” Kaga crosses his arms,  and points his nose up so he’s staring at the sky. “See!?” 

Sadly, this doesn’t even rate that high on the list of weirdest arguments he’s ever had with Kaga. 

Kimihiro goes back to being curled up on one side, so he’s facing away from Kaga. Like this, not looking at his face, it’s a bit easier to say, “Sarumara said something weird this morning.”

Kaga’s voice is a little more wooden than usual. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Kimihiro is still puzzling it out, so it’s harder to remember. “She said I should talk to you to clear things up.” 

Now, Kaga’s voice seems to take a darker turn. “Oh. Did she.”

“Yeah. I still don’t get it.” Kimihiro’s eyes are closed, and the sunlight is warm on his body and it’s actually kind of… nice… being up here. When he can only hear Kaga’s voice instead of seeing him, it’s like he’s less annoying, somehow. “I’ll have to talk to her again, and ask…” 

“I’m sure it’s nothing important.”

“Girls are so confusing…” 

Things get fuzzy around then, as he feels himself drop off to sleep. At one moment, he dreams that there are long fingers combing at the fringe of his hair, brushing his bangs away from his face.

It’s a nice dream.

~

 

For the third time that day, Kaga pokes him awake, which makes Kimihiro curl up into a miserable ball, but Kaga keeps poking at him, until Kimihiro snarls, “ _What_!?” and in answer, he gets his glasses shoved into one hand and a can of coffee, still warm from the vending machine, shoved into another. 

“You don’t want to be late for class,” Kaga says, terse. 

By the time Kimihiro is awake, Kaga has already disappeared, and Kimihiro is left covered in Kaga’s crumpled uniform jacket, feeling a strange sense of deja vu. 

~

 

Like the delinquent he is, Kaga is waiting outside of Kimihiro’s classroom as soon as the bell rings. 

“Didn’t you have Gym last period?” Kimihiro asks, and Kaga shrugs, before falling naturally into step with Kimihiro as he heads towards his bike. Because Kaga refuses to stand on the rear pegs - he claims it’s beneath his dignity to “ride bitch” - Kimihiro walks his bike home, Kaga walking next to him. Kaga seems quieter than usual, lost in thought, and Kimihiro leaves him to it. 

They swing by the elementary school and pick up Akane, who runs out to meet them and tackles Kaga with a shriek of “Kaga-niichama!”  as if he’s her actual older brother. She’s such a shameless brat sometimes. She insists on holding Kimihiro’s hand and Kaga’s hand at the same time, and before Kimihiro can open his mouth to say, “Ne, Akane-chan, that’s _really embarrassing_ ,” Kaga is already acquiescing, sticking out his hand for Akane to swing off of. And after that, well - it’s not like Kimihiro’s _competitive_ as an older brother. Definitely not. 

“It’s my turn to make dinner tonight,” he says to Kaga, while Akane swings happily between them. “Do you mind if we drop by the grocery store?”

“You should make beef croquettes,” is Kaga’s response, and Akane chants, “Ko-ro-kke! Ko-ro-kke! Dai-su-ki ko-ro-kke!” 

“I’m not deep frying at your whim! Who said you were even coming to dinner?”

Kaga flashes him another mean smile and fishes out his cellphone.  It’s another text message from Mom, but this time it says, _Kaga-kun, you should come over for dinner tonight! Ask Kimihiro-chan if he can make croquettes, he’s so good at making them and they’re really yummy~~~_

Kimihiro restrains himself from saying a Bad Word and checks his own phone to find a message from his mother that makes him stop dead: 

 _Kaga-kun seems sad. Some beef croquettes would probably cheer him up_.  

Kimihiro slides a glance over to Kaga, who is now joining in with Akane, bellowing “Ko-ro-kke! Ko-ro-kke! Dai-su-ki ko-ro-kke!” while people across the street eye them. He doesn’t _look_ sad.

~

They split up at the grocery store: Akane wants to look at pencil crayons and stickers, while Kimihiro wants to get vegetables. Kaga volunteers to take Akane, and Kimihiro shoots him a grateful look; it’s always hard trying to both do chores and keep Akane entertained at the same time. He gets potatoes, ground beef (half off!), carrots, shiitake. They should have enough of everything else at home. He runs through the list in his mind, distracted: onions, eggs, panko, flour, oil… 

When they meet back up again at the checkout counter, Kaga still seems quiet. But then he notices what’s in Kimihiro’s basket and grins, looking more like his usual self.  

“ _Shut up_ ,” Kimihiro mutters. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were definitely _saying_ something, even if it wasn’t out loud.” As punishment, he makes Kaga carry the potatoes, but Kaga is one of those offensive people who can heft a bag of potatoes as if it’s nothing. Kaga is _also_ one of those offensive people who sees fit to give Akane a little candy bracelet with a yellow heart dangling off it, therefore cementing her affections for Kaga nigh unto eternity.

When they get home, Kimihiro changes out of his school uniform and into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt, then he pulls out his apron, which is turquoise and has three happy, dancing Pekkles across the front. Akane pulls on a pink and blue ruffly apron with Hello Kitty and Mimi on it, holding hands, and Kaga, by default, gets Mom’s pink and white My Melody apron. He sets Kaga and Akane to peeling and cutting the potatoes while Cardcaptor Sakuraplays on his laptop. Then he works on chopping all of the other veggies, as well as preparing the lettuce for the salad. 

“What?” he says, when he catches Kaga looking at him. “If we’re going to have deep fried potatoes and beef, I’m going to make sure that Akane gets some vegetables, too.”

“Potatoes are a vegetable,” Kaga says, amused. This is an argument that they have had so many times, usually over WacDonald’s fries, but then Kaga puts a wrench in the works by adding an unexpected beat: “You’ll make a good dad one day.”

“Eh?”

_Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?_

Akane is now singing along to CCS: "Nice to meet you, good to see you, kitto~” while trying to peel a potato in a long, single curl. 

“Never mind,” Kaga says, abruptly. He turns his back to Kimihiro and turns up the exhaust fan, even though it’s already on a pretty high setting. Which leaves Kimihiro staring at Kaga, at the long, straight line of his back, the pink bows of the apron ties, the red hair that’s gotten so long that it’s touching the collar of his shirt. 

“Your hair must be getting in the way,” Kimihiro says, more to fill the awkward not-quite-silence (“Ichiban ichiban ichiban ichiban ko-i-shi-te-ru!” Akane trills). "Here, I'll help you with that." 

By the time he comes back with a tiny purple hair brush (again, Akane’s) and a pink hair tie, Kaga’s already chopping onions. His bangs are hanging in his face, since he can’t wipe them away with his oniony hands. 

Kimihiro concentrates on brushing Kaga’s hair and pulling it into a ponytail, lingering over it, brushing it more times than is probably necessary for the simple job. He’s done the same for Akane a thousand times, but it feels different when the person is taller than him by a head and much broader, when it's beautiful red spilling through his hands, as if he's holding autumn itself.  

“There,” he says, lightly touching Kaga’s shoulder again. It feels warm and tense beneath his hands. “All done.”

Kaga doesn’t turn around. “I thought you meant that you were going to chop the onions.”

“No,” Kimihiro says, tucking the tiny hair brush into one of his apron pockets. “You wanted croquettes, you have to earn them. Akane-chan, how are the potatoes coming along?”

~

 

After dinner, Akane and Kaga wash up while Kimihiro packs bentos for all of them, including Kaga. 

“This is just a thank you for dinner,” Kimihiro warns, wrapping up Kaga’s bento in the light blue Cinnamaroll furoshiki again, where Cinnamoroll is happily flying through the sky with his long, pale, aerodynamic ears. “Don’t expect this to be a regular thing.” 

Instead of making another bastard-like comment, Kaga’s face just goes funny. There’s an unexpected beat of silence, and then Akane interrupts with, “I want Kaga-niichama to read me my bedtime story tonight.” She says this while drying off a dinner plate, perched on top of her little  stool so she can reach the kitchen sink. 

“Ah, Akane-chan, it’s already late. Kaga-niisan probably has to be going home soon, doesn’t he?”

“No he doesn’t,” Akane says breezily. “Kaga-niichama got a call when we were looking at Cinderella stickers, and then he yelled that he wasn’t coming home, and then he hung up, and then he got me a candy bracelet and then he said-” Her jaw drops open. “I didn’t say anything!” she squeaks.

Kaga covers his face with his hand. “And that,” he says, “is the last time I try to bribe you, brat.”

“Akane-chan,” Kimihiro says,  sounding calmer and more adult than he actually feels, “keep drying the dishes, okay? Kaga-niisan and I are going to have a _talk_.” 

~

 

Kimihiro closes the door of his room with an ominous click, and turns on Kaga, who is looking sulky and standoffish, his hands sunk into his apron pockets. 

“Kaga,” he starts, and then immediately interrupts himself by saying, “okay, first, we have to take off these aprons. We cannot have a serious conversation in Sanrio aprons.” 

Kaga shrugs. “I like this apron.”

Kimihiro fights to get out of the Pekkle apron, and Kaga gives an aggrieved sigh and stomps over. “Give me that.” He lifts away Kimihiro’s glasses, and then gets behind him, properly undoing the ties at the back of Kimihiro’s neck and at his waist. It seems to take forever, the air becoming slower, warmer, more thoughtful around them. There were things that Kimihiro was going to say, righteous and angry and totally deserved things, but the words die in his throat as he feels Kaga’s fingers, so sure with a shogi tile or with a stone, fumble warmly at the back of Kimihiro’s neck. 

Even when the apron's finally off, Kimihiro still doesn't turn around. Maybe it’ll be easier this way, if they don’t have to look at each other. 

Kimihiro’s voice emerges from his throat, and it’s softer than he intended. “Why don’t you want to go back home?”

“… Nobody wants me to be home, and I don’t want to be there. Simple enough.” 

Kimihiro takes a moment to digest that before asking, “… Why didn’t you tell me how serious it was?”

He senses more than he sees Kaga shrug his shoulders. “It's not your concern.” 

“You _asshole_. You’ve been letting me yell at you about all this stupid stuff, and you’re going through something this serious? Didn’t someone lecture me about once about not being stressed out and pressured all by myself?”  

“That was different. That was Go.”

“And this is just real life!” 

Kaga sighs. His breath skitters across the side of Kimihiro’s throat, and all the hair on the back of his neck rises up. “I don’t want to go back there, ever.” 

“Kaga…”

And then Kaga does something shocking. 

He drops his forehead onto Kimihiro’s left shoulder. “Can we just not talk about it right now?” 

Kimihiro’s shoulder feels magnetized. It’s as if all of the awareness that’s usually resting in the entirety of his body has zoomed in on that single zone of contact. “You promise you’ll tell me the whole story, one day?”

“I promise,” Kaga says. Kimihiro can feel him moving and he wonders, wildly, if Kaga is going to embrace him. 

“NIICHAN! KAGA-NIICHAMA! MY CANDY BRACELET BROKE!!” 

~

 

That night, they Rock Paper Scissors for the bed again, and Kimihiro suspects Kaga of losing on purpose. Kaga says a terse “Good night,” as if the earlier conversation never happened, and turns away, his back a childish huddle that hurts Kimihiro - not sharply, but in a soft, days-old bruise kind of way - and that makes him want to laugh and want to stroke his hand down Kaga's back until Kaga turns and looks at him again with those soft, serious eyes. Needless to say, he does not do the latter. 

When he wakes up in the morning, it’s to Mom making breakfast. She’s still in stockings and her pencil skirt, but she’s unbuttoned her vest and her bowtie hangs loose around her throat. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and even though she’s tired, she smiles at him, and presses her forehead against his, their version of a kiss. “Morning, Kimihiro-san.”

“Morning, Mom. How was work last night - this morning?”

“Usual corporate assholes, wanting their usual douchey drinks,” she says, and when he points at the swear jar - covered in foam flowers and puffy stickers - she gives a good-natured groan and says, “Just grab something from my purse.” 

He does, pulling out a few bills and stuffing them into the jar. “Want me to wake up Akane?”

“Mm, that’s okay. The little munchkin had a nightmare last night, so I’m letting her sleep in a little. She has time before she has to head to school.” Mom flips a pancake up into the air, giving a little, “Woohoo!” when it lands in the pan right.

“Aww, you should’ve woken me up last night. I would’ve dealt with it.”

“Nah, nah, it was fine. I just got home from work, so I was still up.” Kimihiro wants to carp about that, argue that he's responsible for Akane too, but Mom is brightening up and saying, “Ah, good morning Kaga-kun! How many pancakes do you want?”

“Anything’s fine, Honoka-sama,” Kaga says, sounding uncharacteristically meek. Mom just cackles - she loves the way that Kaga sucks up to her.

“Did you sleep okay, Kaga-kun? Kimihiro-chan hog all the covers? Terrible cover hog, when he was little.”

Kaga seems to regain a bit of his old fire and says, “You raised a perfect gentleman, Honoka-sama,” which is Kimihiro’s cue to flip them both the bird and wake Akane up for school. Mom’s laughter follows him all the way out of the kitchen. 

~ 

Halfway through breakfast, Mom is yawning and drooping at the table, so Kimihiro shoos at her to go back to bed, and she says, “Hai, hai,” saluting him and dropping a kiss on Akane’s forehead before she goes. 

They walk Akane to school, and she insists on swinging from their hands again. Kimihiro swears he hears some squealing just out of earshot and spots three of his female classmates hiding very poorly behind a telephone pole and peering at them. 

“I don’t understand girls at all,” Kimihiro says to Kaga, who just rolls his eyes and lets his arm fly out as Akane takes a particularly energetic swing. 

“Just ignore like this, like you ignore everything else.”

“What?” _Wait, what?_  

“Bye, Kaga-niichama! Bye, Niichan!”

“Have a good day at school, Akane-cha - argh, Kaga, wait up!” 

~ 

Kaga is surlier than usual on the way to school. Not just quiet, but unresponsive, almost snappish, and not in a playful way. Kimihiro puts up with all the way until school, when Kaga turns on his heel and says, “I’ve got shogi practice after school, so I won’t be at your place till later.”

“O-kay…?” Kimihiro says. Kaga’s never informed him of his whereabouts before. It’s not like their, uh, sleeping arrangements have to change anything. 

“So don’t wait up for me.”

“I’m not going to.” _Asshole_. Kaga turns away, and he doesn’t know what possesses him, but Kimihiro shouts, “H-hey!” at his back. 

Kaga spins, slowly, long-suffering. “What?”

“You’re being a real - a real cranky-pants, you know that?” Having a little sister has really conditioned him from swearing out loud. “You obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, but don’t take it out on me!”

Before he can blink - he’s not quite sure how it happens - Kaga appears to teleport. He reappears just in front of Kimihiro’s nose, so that they’re almost toe to toe. 

He was hoping that insulting him would jolly Kaga out of his sombre mood, as if Kaga would just toss a snide insult back at him and they could go back to the status quo. 

But Kaga has his serious face on again, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Instead of saying _sorry_ , like normal people would, or _, okay, I’ll go back to my more usual asshole self rather than my morose asshole self_ , which would be weird but comforting at least, Kaga elects to be the most disorienting human being on the planet and says, “You have stuff all over your glasses.”

“What?” 

And Kaga slides them off Kimihiro’s nose. His fingers brush Kimihiro’s cheek, and trail along the edge of his cheekbone. While Kimihiro is speechless, Kaga wipes the lenses on the tail of his uniform shirt, and slides them carefully up the bridge of Kimihiro's nose, until Kimihiro realizes he is staring right at Kaga. 

And Kaga is staring right back at him. 

There’s nothing teasing in Kaga’s gaze. Nothing that says, _I enjoy making you flip out over nonsensical garbage and mocking your shitty opening game._ There’s not - not necessarily heat in his eyes, but rather an intense _warmth._ It travels through the air between them, suffusing Kimihiro’s face, his throat, his chest. His eyes prickle and water. 

“I’ll see you at dinnertime,” Kaga says, and then he’s gone.  

~

 

Asa Homugi is sharp and vividly pretty in a way that means he should be terrified of her, but she also has that fierce passion for Go that makes her uncool in the best way possible. Kimihiro is still staring at the board at lunch time, trying to interpret what the hell kind of play Asa’s going for, when Asa says, way too casually, “So what’s the deal with you and your boyfriend? I thought you would have told me if you were going out with someone.”

Kimihiro chokes on his own saliva and almost upsets the board. “Bo-boyfriend!?” 

Asa tilts her head at him, pert. “Did you know it’s really adorable when your glasses slide down your nose like that?” she says, as if stating a scientific fact. “Yes, your boyfriend. That red-headed yankee aways hovering around your class? Yui-rin was telling me about it. I have to say, I am _highly offende_ d I had to get my gossip secondhand. What’s the point in being in the Go club together if you don’t tell me about your sordid love life?” 

He has a number of replies that should be on his lips, such as _I don’t have a boyfriend_ or _I don’t have a love life and even if I did, it wouldn’t be sordid_ or _Is that seriously why you joined the Go club?_ But the actual response that squeaks from him is, “Are you talking about _Kaga_?”

“Ah, yes!” she snaps her finger. “Kaga Tetsuo, right? I never remember his real name, because you always seem to refer to him as ‘that bastard.’ Anyway, we should all go on a double date so you can help me tip the scales. Basically, I hate anything that Mawatari picks. That boy needs to learn that there is more to the movies than kaijuus, car chases, and samurais.”

“I’m not going out with Kaga, and also I can’t remember the last movie I saw in theatres that wasn’t Disney or Studio Ghibli.” 

“Aww, you sound like a young dad with no personal life. Is that what hooked Kaga-kun? Your adorable glasses-wearing domesticity?” 

“I told you, _I’m not going out with him_! _I think I would know if I was going out with him_!”

“Ah, but would you _really_?” Asa asks, wise and philosophical and absolutely maddening. “Forgive me if I don’t trust your acute judgement. If you haven’t noticed that for the past twenty minutes, I have been building this _killer_ net around you, how can I trust that you are not, in fact, actually going out with Kaga Tetsuo?”

He beats her by six and a half moku by the end of the game. But instead of conceding in graceful, dignified silence, Asa just pouts and says, “You’re buying the popcorn.”  

~

 

When he gets home, Akane is already helping herself to a snack of leftover umeboshi rice balls and apple juice, swinging her legs in her chair. “Where’s Kaga-niichama?” she asks, brutally stomping on Kimihiro’s ever-dwindling hope that he is in fact her favourite brother. 

“He had shogi club after school,” Kimihiro says, tidying up the kitchen out of habit, even though it’s Mom’s turn to cook dinner tonight. “You know, Akane-chan, Kaga-niisan can’t stay here forever. He really does have to go home eventually.”

Akane doesn’t do the pouty little girl thing, the lower lip trembling and sticking out. Instead, she gets more stubborn, shoving another rice ball into her mouth. “ _Why_ does he have to? He’s happier here, I know he is. So he should just stay here,” she pronounces, as if it’s as simple as that.

Happy? The word makes Kimihiro pause. It’s true that Kaga does seem to fit into the flow of their everyday routine. But Kaga has a life, a family, a home, that have nothing to do with them. He has obligations, he has people that he belongs to. He can’t be comfortable with how small their apartment is; Kimihiro knows that Kaga is used to living in a large house with his father, who is a mid-level manager at some kind of company. He racks his brains and is a bit ashamed to realise that he doesn’t know much more than that.

 _I don’t want to go back there, ever_. 

Kimihiro feels too many things, too many unfamiliar feelings - worry and fondness, fear and frustration, and a righteous, overprotective anger that is as ridiculous as it is overwhelming. Kaga is Kaga. Kimihiro tries to find this thought reassuring, tries to think: _he can take care of himself_ instead of  _I would like to murder his father_. 

And - Kaga really, really can't stay forever. Kimihiro knows that for a certainty. And he doesn’t just mean in the apartment. Ever since Shindou decided to become an insei, Kimihiro’s been waiting to hear from Kaga that he’s going to do the same, with shogi - enroll in the apprentice school, try to go pro. He’s surprised it hasn’t happened already. 

And after high school, Kimihiro realizes, with a pang, they’ll probably go to different universities, and never see each other again. It was strange and maddening and ridiculous that Kaga had kept inserting himself into Kimihiro’s life like this over the past few years, but it’s not like it’ll _last_. Kaga’s a champion, at shogi and at life and in general, and Kimihiro will never rise above the level of mere competent, like playing Go just because he loves the game so damn much. He knows this about himself: that he’ll go to a good university but not the best, find a good job so that he can help Mom out, and put Akane through university too, when the time comes.  It’s a good plan, and a good life, and he’ll know he’ll be content within the limits of it.

But Kaga is fierce and blazing, brilliant and clawing at the edges of things, as if the world is always too small for him, and he will live a life that reflects this demand for _more_. His life will be crammed with colour and excitement, with rich experience and fascinating people and new places, and someone like Kimihiro - well, he’ll never fit into that, into that incandescent and burning world. Again, he knows this about himself, the same way he knows this about Kaga.  

Sometimes, though, he wishes he didn’t know these things.

 ~

About an hour and a half later, after a couple of rice balls of his own and after he’s made a steady dent in his homework, he hears Mom's cheerful call of, “I’m home!” followed by Kaga’s quieter one. In the kitchen, Mom and Kaga are unloading plastic grocery bags and Mom says, “Good evening, Kimihiro-san! Can you get the hotpot-pot out?” 

Kimihiro goes on an exploratory mission, unearthing the pot from where it’s crammed with all of their other kitchen stuff in the endless Rubik’s cube that is the joy of living in a tiny apartment. He almost falls backwards, trying to wrench it out of a cabinet, but Kaga catches him by the elbow. His hands are very warm. 

“Th-thanks,” Kimihiro says, feeling awkward. It seems to be catching, because Kaga looks unsure of himself too, muttering, “No problem.”

“How was shogi today?”

Kaga looks a little blank for a moment and then he shrugs with some of his old bravado. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I thought the upperclassmen would give me more of a challenge, but they cry just like everybody else.”

“Spoken like a gracious winner, ne, Akane-chan?” Mom says, to Akane, who has wandered into the kitchen and is now singing, to a tune of her own making, “Shabu-shabu, shabu-shabu, shabu-shabu’s not too shabby~!” 

They get out the aprons again - Mom takes out one of her spare black ones from her job bartending - and start prepping all the meat and vegetables. Mom hums as she readies the broth. It’s nice and companionable, bumping shoulders with Kaga, as Kimihiro cuts the beef into thin slices and Kaga shreds the cabbage with ferocious cleaver chops. 

When they sit down together for hotpot at the low table, Kimihiro and Kaga end up on the same side of the table, which is small to begin with. It’s a bit crowded and, sitting cross-legged, his legs end up brushing against Kaga’s, despite his best efforts. Kaga seems to not notice, but his face is a bit more flushed than usual, probably from the heat of the steaming hotpot. 

“Thank you for helping prepare this dinner, everyone!” Mom says. “I know that with my crazy weird work schedule, and clubs, and other after-school things, that we don’t always get to have dinner together, so I’m really grateful for this time with my precious family.” She beams at all of them, including Kaga in the warmth of her gaze. 

The most embarassing thing about his Mom’s earnest speeches is that they are absolutely sincere. 

“On that note, I have an announcement to make! Please raise your glasses!” 

Akane stops playing with her chopsticks, which she was making walk across the tabletop like stilts. Next to him, Kimihiro can feel Kaga straighten up. Akane raises a plastic yellow cup full of apple juice, Kimihiro and Kaga lift their tumblers full of aloe vera juice, and Mom hoists a bottle of Asahi up in the air, her smile turned up to eleven. 

“I am happy to say that for the foreseeable future, Kaga-kun will be living with us!”

Kimihiro feels all the hair on his body rise up as Akane whoops with delight. 

“Kaga-kun, welcome to the family! Everybody, _cheers_!” 

~

 

Even seated, with his palms flat on his thighs, Kaga bows so low that his chin almost touches the kitchen table. “Thank you for taking me in, Honoka-sama!” he barks. “I’m really grateful to you and your family. If there’s anything more I can do-“

“Oh, just  keep doing what you’re doing,” Mom says blithely. “I can tell you’ve been such a big help already, cooking and cleaning up and helping take care of Akane-chan. But like Kimihiro, your job is to be a high school student and work hard at school, okay? And to keep working hard at shogi, because you love it!" Mom turns to him, eyebrows raised. "Kimihiro-san, are you all right? You look a little shell-shocked.” 

Kimihiro hinges his jaw back together, from where it had fallen open. His brain has just started whirring back to life, but his mouth is quicker as he asks Kaga: “Does your father know?”

A distinct coldness enters the room. 

Mom looks very calm. “Kaga-kun and I have discussed this. We are going to talk about things with his father, but this is the decision that Kaga-kun has made, and I support him.” 

It’s like his brain is trying to jam together two puzzles pieces that don’t fit: the apartment where he lives with Mom and Akane, his home life. And Kaga, with whom he argues, and goes to school with, and plays Go with when Kaga  can be bugged or tricked into it. He thinks of Kaga camped out on his bed reading TeniPuri, of how tired Kaga had looked, as if he’d been carrying something heavy for a very long time. 

His mouth continues to get ahead of his brain. “We’ll have to figure out more permanent sleeping arrangements. We can’t just keep switching between the futon on the floor and the bed every night.”

“I’ll take the futon,” Kaga says. “I don’t mind.”

“ _I_ do,” Kimihiro says, hating the thought of just - permanently banishing Kaga to this lower position, literally on his floor. “Mom, this is _huge_. Have you really thought this through? Have you-“ 

Kaga stands up from the table. “Never mind. It was really a nice offer, Honoka-san, but I’ll just - I’ll take my leave, and-”

Kimihiro sits there frozen for a minute as Kaga stomps towards Kimihiro’s bedroom - _their_ bedroom? It takes him longer than it should to scramble up from the table and follow him. When he gets there, Kaga is throwing his things back into his backpack. 

“Kaga, I-“

“It’s fine.” Kaga’s back is to him. His voice is dull in a way that doesn’t sound like him at all, and it makes Kimihiro’s chest hurt, just to hear it, all the fire and the colour bled out of it. “I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll be fine, I’ll-“ 

Kimihiro grasps Kaga’s shoulder and turns him around. “Will you just _listen_ , idiot? Stop packing for a minute and just let me-“ He tries to grab the Chemistry textbook from Kaga’s hands, but Kaga refuses to let it go. Kimihiro blows his bangs out of his eyes. “Kaga, I don’t want you to go.” 

Kaga stands very, very still. 

“I just - I was surprised, okay? This was a very, _very_ big thing that just happened. I think I deserve a minute or two to be surprised. When Mom says you ‘talked,’ I guess that means you didn’t really have shogi practice after school today...?”

Kaga looks guilty, which is a bit satisfying.

Kimihiro goes on, trying to articulate his own feelings, the jumble of his thoughts. “I jumped immediately to problem-solving and the practical stuff, like where you’re going to sleep or how we’re going to cram four people into this apartment, but that doesn’t mean - _that does not mean_ \- that I don’t want you to be here.”

It’s embarrassing, but true. Said out loud, Kimihiro realizes _how_ true it is.

Kaga is still holding that stupid Chemistry book. He’s frozen, looking - looking like Akane does, sometimes, when she doesn’t believe what he’s saying, that he already shooed the monsters away from her closet with the monster spray, or that the movie they are halfway through really does have a happy ending, even though the talking cat has currently been swept into the river. So he does what he does with Akane, and he pulls Kaga into a hug. 

It's different. Akane is tiny and warm and often smells like raspberry shampoo and orange slices and she still has chubby little cheeks that she presses against his face. Kaga is warm too, but he is tall and firm, and he smells like soap and yuzu oil, and something that is indefinably male, something is just… just Kaga.  

After a shocked minute, Kaga hugs Kimihiro back. 

Absolute warmth floods him to his fingertips and singing through his skull. Kaga rests his chin on the top of Kimihiro's head, so Kimihiro’s face is pressed to the side of his throat. His eyeglasses dig uncomfortably into his face, but if he turns his head just a bit, he can watch the way that Kaga’s pulse jumps in his throat. 

“Thanks,” Kaga says. His voice is scratchy. 

“You’re welcome,” Kimihiro says softly, not understanding for what, but feeling grateful all the same.

When they break apart, the room still feels charged with a strange warmth and energy, a breathlessness that makes Kimihiro feel exposed, electrified. Mesmerized, he watches Kaga’s eyes darken and his mouth open, and he knows - he knows, with utter clarity - that whatever Kaga says next, something will break between them, something will change. 

So instead Kimihiro says, “We should get back to the hotpot before it gets cold.”

Kaga’s mouth opens and closes. When it opens again, all he says is, “Yeah. We should do that.” 

~

 

The next day after school, Kimihiro goes with Kaga to his house to get more of his stuff, by which he means that Kaga says, curtly, “Wait here” and disappears into the house, while Kimihiro is left on the sidewalk, feeling like a dumbass. He pulls out a book about Honinbou Shuusaku and starts reading so that he feels _less_ like a dumbass, and he’s halfway through a fascinating chapter on Honinbou’s thirty-game match with Ota Yuzo ( _thirty-game match_!!!!! shrieks a part of Kimihiro’s brain that Kaga calls “a gigantic, hopeless nerd”) when he hears the yelling coming from inside the house. 

Kaga storms out, his backpack stuffed and a heavy canvas duffel bag over his other arm, but the yelling follows him out. Kaga’s father doesn’t look his father at all, if that makes any sense - he just looks like an ordinary salary man, in a suit and a tie, with a face that would probably be handsome under other circumstances, but is now twisted in anger as he shouts after Kaga, words that Kimihiro can’t even begin to understand. Kaga’s face is like a thundercloud, his shoulders hunched up tight, and when his eyes meets Kimihiro’s, his expression darkens further. 

Kaga’s father catches sight of Kimihiro too, and that seem to launch him on this whole other rant. “Is this him, then?” his father shouts after him. “Is that your-“ but Kaga is grabbing Kimihiro’s arm, striding away so quickly that he’s almost running.  Kimihiro jogs to keep up with him, and they go through block after block after block, until Kaga’s father yelling fades into the background.

Well.

At least Kimihiro now understands why Kaga wouldn’t mind squeezing into a tiny apartment with three other people. 

After four blocks, Kimihiro says, “Hey,” and stops. Kaga still has his arm, but somehow, as he’d dragged Kimihiro away, his grip has slipped down to Kimihiro’s wrist. When Kaga turns to face him, his face is still a little wild. 

“Are you hungry?”

“No.” 

“Well, _I’m_ hungry. Let’s go-“ Kimihiro spins on heel, and jabs his finger at a random family restaurant on the corner. “-There.”

“Whatever.”

“Can I take anything for you?”

“No.” 

But Kaga’s grip on his wrist loosens, just a little. 

The restaurant is a quiet little place, with red vinyl booths and plastic red and white checked tablecloths. When they sit, Kaga is forced to relinquish his death grip on Kimihiro’s wrist. Their server is a teenage girl with a short, blunt bob, around their age, who looks bored until she sees Kaga. She straightens up and chirps, “How can I help you today?”

Kimihiro scans the menu. “I’ll have a hamburger steak. Kaga, what do you want?”

Stony silence. 

Kimihiro sighs. “Two hamburger steaks, please. And two Cokes.”

“Coming right up!” And the server throws another peek at Kaga, who, to be honest, looks kind of manic and terrifying right now. He can almost see little hearts dancing in her eyes as she wonders about his Tragic Past. 

Kimihiro sighs again. Girls are so _weird_.

When the food comes, Kaga doesn’t touch it. 

“Kaga. You have to eat something.”

“Not hungry.” He sounds so much like Akane-chan that Kimihiro finds himself falling into “Niichan” mode. 

“I know you might not feel hungry now, but maybe if you start eating, you’ll find out that you _are_ hungry. Can you take just _one_ bite, right now?” 

“I’m not six years old, you know,” Kaga snaps, but it’s the first complete sentence that he’s spoken since the house, so Kimihiro will take that as a good a sign. Another good sign is that he does as Kimihiro says, and takes one bite. And then another. And then another. He shoves food into his mouth, and Kimihiro watches him closely the whole time. When he’s done, Kimihiro shoves over his own hamburger steak too. He flags down their server again and ends up ordering tonkatsu for himself.

At the end, they’re sipping their Cokes while Kimihiro pays the bill and Kaga says, “I’ll pay next time.”

“You don’t need to feed me. Just get me a new joseki book to make up for that one you threw in the trash.”

Kaga snorts, and for a moment, looks more like his old self. “Where it _belonged_.”

They’ve had this argument so many times, in so many variations, that it’s basically a non-issue. “Well either way, you definitely owe me a new tsumego book.”

“Just tell me when you want to go to the bookstore, and we’ll go.”

This answer is so reasonable that it worries Kimihiro, maybe even more than Kaga being silent and terrifying. 

“But not Touya Koyo’s book,” he adds. 

Kimihiro is a little bit comforted, after all. 

~

They make it home, somehow. Kimihiro coaxed Kaga into letting him carry his backpack, and they manage to get everything up to the apartment. Akane welcomes them home with hugs, which are gratefully accepted, and Mom has left a note on the kitchen table with a spare house key for Kaga. After he dumps his things in his room, Kimihiro says, “I’m going to take a shower. I already freed up that shelf and that part of the closet for your stuff, but feel free to move more things around when you unpack, if you need to,” and he escapes to the washroom. 

Under the steam of the shower, Kimihiro finally lets himself feel all of the hurt that he didn’t allow himself to show as Kaga’s father yelled at him. He couldn’t express it before, not when his job was to take care of Kaga and get him home in one piece, and he couldn’t express it in front of Kaga, who must have all of his own emotions to wrestle with. Kimihiro has no right, really, to feel as upset as he does, the hot knife of his own feelings cutting through the protective numbness from earlier. Who is he, in any of this? Why should his feelings matter, when Kaga must be feeling a thousand, a million times, worse?  

So here, in the sanctuary of the washroom, he cries, and he cries, and he cries. And by the time he gets back to his room - to _their_ room - he can greet Kaga with at least an approximation of his usual fond, irritated face.

~

 

The next day is Saturday. They make banana chocolate chip waffles for breakfast, and Kimihiro thinks that both he and Kaga do a pretty poor job of acting like they’re normal. Akane shovels the waffles in her mouth anyway, and then runs off to pack her unicorn backpack; Kimihiro’s dropping her off at his aunt’s, since he’s hanging out with Fujisaki Akari that afternoon. 

“You have a date with Fujisaki?” Kaga asks. 

“Not a date,” Kimihiro says automatically. “We’re meeting up at a Go parlour so that she can practise some more. We hang out every now and then.”

“So, a date,” Kaga says, stabbing at his innocent waffle.  Kimihiro wonders if there aren’t enough chocolate chips in it for Kaga’s taste. “I thought she was all hung up on Shindou.”

Kimihiro had always liked Fujisaki, back in the days of the Haze Go club. It had been rare that he had actually gotten to teach her properly, since Shindou had hogged a lot of the club time, “because _I’m_ serious about Go! Not like stupid Akari-chan!” He remembers those times with Fujisaki fondly, walking her through a bunch of different things: snapback, nets, false eyes, life and death problems. “White to capture.” “Black to kill.” 

Fujisaki had been diligent and curious about the game, even if she doesn’t have the same, deep powerful hunger for mastery that dogs Shindou. She had asked good questions, tilting her head at Kimihiro, looking at him with those large eyes. Before the club grew, Kimihiro had sometimes thought that she shouldn’t have been mouldering away in the Chemistry classroom after school. She was pretty and clever and well-liked, and she could have done any number of things instead - cheerleading, or volleyball, or ikebana. Something she would have enjoyed for herself.

But, Kimihiro thinks, there are always stupider things she could have done to get the attention of the person she liked. At least Go is interesting. 

“I don’t know if she still likes him or not,” Kimihiro says, honestly. “I know back then she did. I think she just wanted him to pay attention to her, and be a little nicer. Shindou-kun…” The thought is un-generous but now that it’s come to him, it feels like it needs to be said. “He was always needlessly cruel to her.” 

Kaga snorts. “Oh? And what would ‘needfully cruel’ have looked like?”

Kimihiro thinks of all the times that Akari stomped off, hurt, which Shindou never took as a hint that he should go after her - or maybe he had been too uncomfortable, and never pushed through that discomfort to go after her. He thinks of the girl in her volleyball uniform that Shindou had dragged into the Chemistry room, and the light in Shindou’s eyes when he says, _Touya_.

“Needfully cruel,” Kimihiro says, slowly, “would have been telling her that he didn’t feel the same way.” 

Kaga’s voice is sharp now, no longer quite teasing. “How do you know that he didn’t?” 

“He always insulted her and never apologized. He acted like she would always be there, no matter what he said or did. Sometimes, I wasn’t even sure if he liked her as a friend, never mind romantically. He always seemed more comfortable being mean to her, rather than showing any other emotion.” 

There’s a long, stretched out moment of silence. Kimihiro blinks and feels an odd moment of double vision or vertigo, like a Magic Eye about to come into sharp definition, a tsumego he’s about to solve without consciously aware of how he’s doing so - 

Kaga breaks the moment in half. 

“Then Shindou’s an idiot.” 

~

They take the bus to his Aunt Emiko’s, who lives in a more upscale part of town. She comes to the door, dressed in her favourite outfit: dark pants, a white blouse, vivid red lipstick. 

“Hey Kimi-chan, hey shorty." Akane launches herself at Aunt Emiko with a shriek of joy, clinging to her knees. Aunt Emiko looks unruffled and used to it. “Who’s the yankee?” she asks, blunt and curious, jerking her chin at Kaga, who puffs out his chest and says, “Kaga Tetsuo, shogi champ. Who are _you_ , Oneesan?”

“Emiko, Kimihiro’s aunt,” she says, dryly. “So you’re the kid who my sister took in, huh? She always did have a soft spot for trouble-makers.” She turns to Kimihiro and says, “Kind of young to be getting shacked up, aren’t you, kid? You’ve always been the sensible type before this, but I guess the blooming of adolescence, etc.” 

Kimihiro feels his face flooding with heat again and he makes a large X with his hands. “I-it’s not like that, Auntie,” he stammers, wishing that everyone would just _stop_ assuming that he and Kaga are going out. 

“Yeah,” Kaga says acidly, “he has a date with a junior high schooler this afternoon.” 

“She’s in ninth grade and she’s a _friend_ , just a friend!” 

“I like Akari-neechan!” Akari pipes up, from where she’s toeing off her purple flats. “She makes the _best_ cookies,” which makes Kaga turn blazing eyes to Kimihiro and say, “She makes you _cookies_?”  

“They’re a thank you, for teaching her Go!” Kimihiro hurries to explain. 

“She also makes really good Valentine’s Day chocolate!” Akari says brightly, because she seemed determined to make Kimihiro’s life a living hell. His aunt is poorly repressing a smile, pressing manicured fingertips to her mouth. 

“Stop looking like that, they were _obligation chocolate_ ,” Kimihiro scolds Kaga, who looks like he’s about to rip the door off its hinges and trying not to wonder why Kaga cares so much in the first place. “Anyway,” he says, trying to salvage the situation, “thanks for this, Auntie Emiko. We’ll be back around four to pick Akane up, and she has snacks in her backpack to tide her over.” 

 “Bye-bye,” Aunt Emiko says, and then, because she is definitely blood related to his Mom, she winks and says, “Have a nice date!” 

~ 

Kaga insists on walking him to the Go parlour. 

“Look,” Kimihiro says, trotting so that he can keep up with him, “it’s not that big of a deal. Fujisaki and I are friends, and-“

“Who _cares_ ,” Kaga sneers. “Why are we still talking about this-“

“ _You_ seem to care, which is why we are!” 

“Look.” Kaga spins around and roars, “You can do whatever you like, with _who_ ever you like! It’s none of my business, and _I don’t care!_ ” 

It’s as if the - the thing in his bedroom never happened. _Not that thing_ , Kimihiro’s Brain says, as Kimihiro freezes and remembers Kaga’s arms draped around him in the middle of the night. _The other thing_ , where Kaga had held him, tightly, as if trying to say something without words. 

But maybe Kimihiro had imagined the whole thing, or just - misinterpreted it, more than likely, made more of it than it ever was.

“Sorry,” Kimihiro says. His voice comes soft, from the back of his throat. “My mistake.” 

He and Kaga are left on the sidewalk, staring at each other, in one of those weird, teetering, seesawing moments, when anything could - 

“Ah… Tsutsui-senpai…?”

Kimihiro snaps back to reality. They’re outside Dogenzaka, and Fujisaki Akari is there, pretty and perfectly spring-like: violet hair pulled up partially into pigtails,  in a lavender top, a white ruffled skirt, sandals. She has a small turquoise package in her hands, wrapped with a silver bow. She looks the same as always, except that her eyes are round, horrified saucers, as she darts a look between him and Kaga and back again. 

“Are you okay?” Fujisaki asks. She inches towards to him, hands tightening on the turquoise package. “Tsutsui-senpai?”

“I’m fine, Fujisaki-san, thank you,” he says, trying to remember the kind of faces that normal people make. “You remember Kaga Tetsuo, right?”

She gives Kaga a narrow look. “You burst into the Go club that day,” she says, cautious, “and you made Hikaru play those three games of Go, at the same time.”

“Oh yeah?” Kaga says, even ruder than usual. “I don’t remember you being there.”

There’s a glint of anger in Fujisaki’s eyes as she draws herself up to her full height - which is not very tall - and puffs up like an angry hen. “Well, I remember _you_.”

“Get in line, I’m memorable. Unlike _certain_ people. Heard from Shindou lately?” 

The crumpling, furious look on Fujisaki’s face wakes Kimihiro up. 

“Kaga!” he barks. “That’s enough! Fujisaki-san,” he turns towards her, because apologising to her is easier than trying to force Kaga to do it, which would be like pulling teeth. “I’m _so,_ so sorry for his uncivilized behaviour. Please accept my apology,” and he gives her a small bow. 

When he straightens, there’s a strange look on Fujisaki’s face. She’s looking between him and Kaga again, and she’s biting her lip, her eyes very intent, just like when she’s trying to figure out a problem in Go. 

Then decisiveness firms up in her eyes, and she says, as firmly as if she’s placing a stone, “Ne, it’s okay, Tsutsui-senpai, because it’s you.” There’s the very slightest emphasis on _you_. “I’ll go get us a table. See you soon.” And she vanishes inside the Go parlour. 

As soon as she’s gone, Kimihiro pinches Kaga viciously on the inside of his arm just above the elbow, right where it’ll really hurt. It’s a trick he taught to Akane, if there are any boys that try to pick on her. Kaga gives a satisfying yelp and a “What the fuck-?”

“Fujisaki is my _friend_ ,” Kimihiro hisses. “You were really rude and - and _hateful_ to her,  for no reason!”

“Che, like I needed a reason. She’s so irritating, all ‘Tsutsui-senpai’ this and ‘Tsutsui-senpai that’-“ 

“You _have_ to stop this! You have to stop acting like you’re-“

 _Like you’re jealous_.

The words die in Kimihiro’s throat. 

“Like I’m what?”

Kaga has come closer, crowding into Kimihiro’s personal space. He doesn’t sound angry - his voice is quiet, now, almost… eager. 

“Like you’re five,” Kimihiro says, numb, his mouth moving while his brain continues to send error, 404, error, 404 messages, refusing to compute. “I - I have to go teach Fujisaki, now. I’ll see you at 3:30 and we’ll pick up Akane, okay?” 

Kaga breaks off again, his shoulders hunched up. “Yeah. See you then.”

~

 

Fujisaki beats him for the first time. 

It’s only by 2.5 moku, but it’s enough. He barely tutors her, and doesn't get it together by the end game, still too rattled and unfocused. 

Fujisaki eyes him for a minute and says, “Winner buys tea,” their usual rule. Or at least, Kimihiro’s usual excuse for treating her to tea.

He tries to smile at her and doesn’t think he does a very good job. “Thanks, Fujisaki-san.”

She comes back from the concession with two cups of hot black tea, cream in his, just the way he likes it, and then she brings out the turquoise package. 

“Please,” she says, with a polite half-bow from where she’s seated.

“Oh Fujisaki-san, you didn’t have to…”

But she waves it away, as she always does. “I like baking, Tsutsui-senpai, it’s not a big deal. And I owe you for a lot of things,” a phrase vague enough that it probably includes Go but isn’t limited to it. “They’re shortbread bars, like homemade Twix! I know Tsutsui-senpai enjoys caramel and chocolate, so I hope you enjoy them.”

He does enjoy them - she’s cut them into elegant little rhombuses, and they’re rich enough that he only needs a couple of them to feel satisfied; plenty enough to bring home and share with Akane and Mom and - 

Kaga, too. He supposes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Kimihiro pulls a face. “Not really?” he says, to his tea. 

He can hear the smile in her voice as she changes the question. “ _Should_ we talk about it?”

“… Probably…?” 

Fujisaki sighs. “I think,” she says, and he can hear her trying to be tactful, “that Kaga-san needs to get a little better about sharing you with other people.” 

The heat is crawling up his face again. “We’re not like that,” he mumbles. 

“Tsutsui-senpai.” Fujisaki’s voice is so gentle and warm and wise. The world would be so much easier, Kimihiro thinks rebelliously, if this _was_ a date and he was in love with her after all.

“I may not be a genius at Go, but I am not actually an idiot. It’s pretty clear that Kaga-san is in love with you.” 

… 

… 

… 

… It was one thing to be teased about it,  by Mom or Auntie Emiko or even Asa, for people to hint or insinuate or assume that they were boyfriends, or that they were going out. It was humiliating and exhilarating in equal measure. 

It was quite another thing for Fujisaki, with her kind eyes and her practical voice, to state the assumption lying underneath that premise, and to state it so baldly, in such an obvious way that even Kimihiro can’t ignore: _Kaga-san is in love with you_.

“So the question is,” Fujisaki says, “how do _you_ feel, Tsutsui-san? And what do you want to do about it?”

~

 

As if he spends his whole life lurking outside of various establishments like a creepbag, Kaga is waiting outside the Go parlour.

Incongruously, he has a crepe in a pink wrapper in each hand. He thrusts one that looks like it has strawberries and whipping cream and chocolate sauce at Fujisaki. “There’s vanilla ice cream in it, too,” he says grumpily. “I didn’t know what you would like, so I just picked the girliest-looking one.” 

Fujisaki elects to look touched, rather than offended. “Thank you…?” 

And Kimihiro finds a crepe thrust in his own direction. “It’s chocolate ice cream and caramel cheesecake,” Kaga says, sounding equally grumpy. “Just eat it before it gets cold and weird.”

“The ice cream’s already cold, weirdo,” Kimihiro says, glad that his voice doesn’t crack, and that he hasn’t done anything embarrassing yet, like cry. “What’s this for?”

Kaga is scratching his head, not looking at either of them. “I can be a bit of a bastard, sometimes,” he says. “So, thanks for putting up with me.” 

Kimihiro tells his dumb, weepy heart to stop being dumb and weepy. 

“We should take Akane for crepes sometimes. She really adores them,” he says instead, taking a bite. He turns to Fujisaki, who hasn't started on her own crepe yet, but is watching him narrowly. “Fujisaki-san, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks?”

“Definitely! And Tsutsui-senpai-“ A bit of a mischievous looks creeps onto her face. “We’re close friends now, right?”

Kimihiro smells a trap, but he has no idea where it will close. “Right…?”

“So, can I call you Kimihiro-san?” She points at herself. “You can call me Akari too. I’d like that.”

“Ah…” Kimihiro sees no neat way to get out of this. Kaga is very determinedly looking at a billboard across the street, squinting at it as if his life depended on it. “Ah, sure. Akari-san.”

“Then, see you later, Kimihiro-san! And thanks again for the crepe, Kaga-san!”

Waving her free hand, Fujisaki - no, Akari - runs off to the other side of the street, to catch her bus. 

Which leaves Kimihiro with Kaga.  

“How was the Go?” Kaga asks. 

Kimihiro buys himself some time to answer by taking another bite of crepe, chewing and swallowing carefully. It really is tasty, he reflects, enjoying the combination of crispy crepe, cold ice cream, and soft, creamy cheesecake.

“Not that interesting,” he says, finally. “Just life and death problems. You know, the usual.” 

_"What do you want to do about it?"_

_“Nothing_ ," he had told Akari. _“I don’t want to do a damn thing.”_

~

 

As weird as life is, they do manage to settle into a routine. April turns into May; the weather turns warmer, and Akane dances and skips under showers of cherry blossoms on the way to school, intent on creating the beginning of every Cardcaptor Sakura episode, ever, minus the rollerblades. Life goes on, and Kimihiro continues to ignore Kaga’s feelings. And his own. 

Even before, when he was oblivious, he wasn’t really. Small details had cropped up that he had tried not to notice. The obviously affectionate tone of Kaga’s teasing, even of the foul-mouthed variety. The awkwardness in a thousand small touches. The muttered comments, the glances aside, the random gifts of food as if Kaga was a stray cat trying to win his affections, and the scary insistence on rooftop naps. And all right, yes, the rampant, homicidal jealousy. 

His own feelings, he had discounted entirely. Whatever half-articulated nocturnal fantasies he had about Kaga, (who continued to lounge in his bedroom and to look unfairly good when wet and half-naked [and okay to be fair, also when dry and fully clothed, and just all the time in general]) remained just that - fantasies. They didn’t touch reality at all.  

Kaga didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to say anything either, which was a huge relief. Maybe, Kimihiro thought, in his more optimistic moments, this whole thing would blow over: Kimihiro’s hideous crush would fade, or Kaga would date someone else, or Kaga would move out, and they would make it to graduation and everyone would escape unharmed, all limbs attached to bodies, hearts completely intact.

This grand plan was, of course, doomed to blow up in his face.

~

 

Kimihiro wakes up, suddenly alert, not sure why he’s awake at all, until he hears the telltale sounds of Akane sniffling down the hall. He checks the clock, 2:37 a.m., drags himself out of bed, pulls on a hoodie that he realises, too late, is Kaga's, but he's too sleepy and fucked to care.

When he gets to Akane’s bedroom, she’s thrashing and crying. Kimihiro taps the cat-shaped lamp on her bedside table, which fills the room with a warm glow. He shakes her gently by the shoulder - 

“Akane-chan? Akane-chan, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

Akane wakes up, still crying, and she buries herself in Kimihiro in a hug, howling something about the ocean rising and scary octopus ladies, and Kimihiro pats her on the head and makes soothing noise and thinks about murdering the rented copy of  _The Little Mermaid_ still sitting innocently atop their TV. He gets her some water in a pink teddy bear cup. Even after she drinks it and seems to have calmed down a bit, she still doesn’t want him to go. 

“Can you snuggle with me, Niichan?” she asks, tears in her eyes, and Kimihiro stifles a sigh - _it must’ve been a bad one, the poor tyke._ He scoots onto the bed, and Akane curls up next to him.

“How about we look at the stars, Akane-chan?” and she nods, eagerly. He taps the cat lamp to turn it off, and plugs in the star lamp that he’d gotten her for her last birthday. Soft, glowing green stars and a slip of a moon are thrown onto the dark ceiling, and they revolve around them as the lamp plays a tinkly little lullaby. 

“Can you name all the stars, Niichan?” she asks. 

“Sure. That one’s Akane, and that one is Honoka, and that one’s Emiko-“

She gives a little pinch to the inside of his elbow and he winces, for a moment regretting teaching her that one. “Their _real_ names!”

He becomes more serious, lapsing into lecture mode. “Some stars have names that we’ve all agreed on, like Vega of Lyre or Polaris, the North Star. But a lot of stars have really boring names, like HR 7955, because there’s too many of them to name. Do you remember what I told you about Cepheus, the king in his little house?” He points towards the constellation, which really is like a little upside down house, as if drawn by Akane - a square, topped with a triangle. “Most of the stars in Cepheus are called ‘Cephei,’ and then there’s a Greek letter in front of them so we can know how bright they are. So the brightest is Alpha Cephei, and the second is Beta Cephei, then Gamma Cephei…” 

Honestly, by this time, he’s hoping that he’s being boring enough so that she’ll drop off to sleep, but of all times, Akane is wide awake and interested. “What’s the name of the constellation next to the king? The queen?”

“That’s Cassiopeia. Do you know how she became a constellation? A long time ago, Cassiopeia bragged that she and her daughter Andromeda were more beautiful than all the sea nymphs…”

~

 

“Hey.” The voice is gentle but insistent. There’s a hand at his shoulder that Kimihiro tries and fails to bats away. “Hey, wake up, or we’re all going to be late for school.”

Kimihiro bolts awake and wonders why he’s surrounded by stuffed animals, then - 

“Crap! Crap, crap, crap!” 

“Swear jar, Niichan,” Akane says drowsily. 

“Akane, you have to wake up and get ready _right_ now!”

Panic wakes him up properly. Akane struggles into her school clothes and he whisks her hair up into two pigtails, lightning fast. Kaga fixes a bowl of cereal for Akane while Kimihiro pulls out her lunch, which, thankfully, Mom made last night, and shoves it into Akane’s backpack. 

“Oi,” Kaga says, “you’ve got to eat too-“

“No time!” Kimihiro calls over her his shoulder, dashing into his room so he can change into his school uniform. He searches for his glasses and finds them on the floor of Akane’s bedroom, where they are - _crap, crap, CRAP_ \- twisted askew. This is what he gets for not taking them off before he falls asleep - this what he gets for falling asleep before making it back to his own bed - this is what he gets for not having a back up pair of glasses - 

Tody’s one of the days where he and Kaga are supposed to walk Akane to school, but there is so little time that Kimihiro props Akane  - outfitted in a pink and white bike helmet, shoulder pads, and knee pads - up on the handlebars of his bike. He stands on the rear pegs, clutching Kaga’s shoulders tighter than usual because he can’t actually see more than ten feet in front of him. “Full speed ahead!” he shouts, and the three of them tear down the street. 

~

 

By the time he gets to school, Kimihiro is ready for the day to be over. Kimihiro’s aware of how he must look - disheveled uniform, windblown hair, and Kaga's staring isn't helping. “What?” he barks, uncomfortable, re-shouldering his backpack. 

“You look different without your glasses. Not bad, just… different.” Kaga’s head is turned away, so Kimihiro can’t see his face.

The school bells start to ring in the distance, and Kimihiro curses, again, as he runs to class. By the time this day is over, the swear jar will be full of enough money to pay for Akane’s tuition all the way up to high school. 

~ 

In homeroom, once they’ve settled down for independent study time, Mawatari says, frankly, “You look like a hot mess.” 

Asa Homugi props her chin up on her boyfriend’s shoulder and says, in that sweet-mean drawling way of hers, “You mustn’t let domestic bliss get in the way of your scholarly pursuits, Tsutsui-chan. Also, did you switch to contacts? It is a _good_ look for you.” 

Kimihiro is intent on ignoring both of them, digging through his backpack to get his lunch - his stomach has been growling since he missed breakfast - but all he can find is his school supplies. He mentally thinks back on the morning, has a vivid memory of putting Akane’s lunch into her unicorn backpack, and no memory of putting his own lunch into _his_ backpack. He feels around can't find his wallet anywhere, either. 

Crap. 

Crap. 

 _Crap_.

At break, Kimihiro is at his locker trying to shake spare change out of every nook and cranny when Kaga appears with two nikuman and vending machine coffee. He shoves both at Kimihiro, with a terse, “Here.” 

“Thank you…?” Kimihiro says, confused, but Kaga is already walking away before he adds casually, over his shoulder: “I’ll see you on the rooftop for lunch.” 

~

Kimihiro makes it onto the rooftop, again feeling that strange sense of deja vu. It’s May now, and warmer than that lunch time what feels like long ago, at the beginning of the school year, but some things are still the same. Kaga is taking out his lunch, which today is in a golden Purin furoshiki. He shoves Kimihiro’s lunch across to him, wrapped in a navy blue furoshiki with Pochacco on a scooter.

Kimihiro mutters thank you and digs into his lunch, leftover yakisoba with pork and cabbage. There’s a companionable silence between them. For the first time all day, he feels his bad mood and his headache - mostly caused by hunger, tiredness, and squinting at the blackboard - start to lift. 

“You can take a nap again, if you want,” Kaga says, and then amends this mostly-nice comment by adding, “You look like shit.” 

“ _Thanks_ ,” Kimihiro says, but a nap sounds _fantastic_ , so good that his mouth almost waters at the thought. He’s not sure how long he was up with Akane last night, but he knows that it’s long enough that he still feels gritty today, worn through like old sandpaper.

Kaga’s making a pillow out of his jacket again and Kimihiro takes off his own jacket so he can pull it over himself like a blanket and he says, “Just make sure to wake me up, okay? I have a Calc test first period in the afternoon,” and Kaga says, “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but it sounds fond. 

~ 

Kimihiro wakes up feeling refreshed, but something about the angle of the sun in the sky seems off. He checks his watch and _holy crap-_

“First period is over! Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Kaga looks pissed. He breaks off from reading another pilfered volume of TeniPuri - he’s on twelve, now - and says, “I tried, and you kept swatting at me and saying, ‘Five more minutes.’ After the fourth time, I gave up.”

Kimihiro tries to pull his jacket on, but it billows around him - he realizes it’s Kaga’s and pulls it off again as if it’s made of poison, struggling to get his own jacket on instead. “I missed the test, I’m screwed, I’m _screwed_ , I’ve never missed a test before-!" 

One of Kaga’s hands lands on his wrist. “It’s one test, what’s the big deal? I went and told your teacher that you were sick and went home. She said it was fine. Just avoid walking by that class the rest of today, and-“

“It is _not_ fine!” Kimihiro yells. “It is really _not fine!_ I can’t afford to miss things! I _have_ to do well in school! I’m not like _some_ people, who don’t have to give a crap about school because they already know exactly what they’re going to do with their lives, and -“ 

“Hey.” Kaga’s other hand lands on his other wrist, until Kaga is tugging him towards him, and Kimihiro realizes they’re toe to toe again. Kimihiro abruptly shuts up, buttoning up his mouth and staring stubbornly at Kaga’s chest. “Is this about Shindou becoming an insei? Is that what this is about? You kept saying you were happy for him, but-“ 

“It’s nothing,” Kimihiro says through gritted teeth, regretting saying anything, regretting having a _mouth_. “I just - I studied really hard for this Calc test. I wanted to get it over with.” 

“Your teacher said it was fine. She said you were one of her best students, and she hoped that you felt better soon. She _adores_ you, god damn it. School really isn’t the end and be all, Tsutsui.”

“It is for me,” he says. He tries to tug his wrists away, but Kaga has a firm hold on them. “I need to do well in school, so I can get into a good university, so I can get a good job, so I can take care of Mom and Akane. That’s the plan.” 

 Kaga’s hands tighten on his wrists. “Where did you get this crazy idea that you have to become your dad? _No one_ is expecting you to. You could be anything, _do_ anything, you’re so-“

“I’m me,” Kimihiro says, as if that explains everything, not knowing why panic is rising like a swarm of butterflies in his chest, not knowing why he feels like he’s slowly being torn in two. “I’m just - I’m just _me-_ “ 

Kaga lets go of his wrist, and he feels one temporary moment of release, but then Kaga’s hand is very warm and cradling the side of Kimihiro’s face. Even without his glasses, he can see Kaga perfectly well. 

“I don’t know,” Kaga murmurs, his mouth very close, “why you keep thinking you’re anything less than extraordinary,” and then he’s kissing Kimihiro, and the world ceases to make any sense at all.

~

 

Kaga is kissing him. _Kaga._ Is kissing him.

He can barely register the sensations - _warm, wet, soft_ \- because his mind is going into freefall. 

He shoves Kaga away. 

Kaga looks - Kaga looks - 

Kimihiro’s mind races. 

So, Kaga has kissed him.

So, all of Kimihiro’s fragile constructions, sensible safeguards, complications and barriers,  just - whoosh. Completely demolished. Everything is basically ruined, now that Kaga has declared himself in this absolutely unambiguous way. 

And if everything is ruined, says a part of his brain that he might describe as _hungry_ , while his blood thunders in his ears, then he might as well dance in the wreckage and enjoy what he can.

An entire universe of restraint falls away. Just. Like. That. 

“Tsu-“ Kaga starts to say, but Kimihiro doesn’t let him finish. Instead, he shoves Kaga against a wall, and proceeds to kiss him. Kaga makes a startlingly flattered noise in his throat, somewhere between a moan and a growl, as Kimihiro tries to get his body as close to Kaga’s body as he possibly can. He grinds himself against Kaga, who seems to be enjoying it, if the way he has grabbed Kimihiro’s hips and shoved him closer is any indication. He tries to get his tongue into Kaga’s mouth, which tastes like coffee and the beef curry they had made together last night, while Kimihiro had watched a drop of sweat slide down Kaga’s throat in the heat of the kitchen, and tried not to think about licking him there. 

But: everything is ruined. So: he licks him there. Kaga moans again and his hips buck against Kimihiro’s, and Kimihiro licks his way up and down Kaga’s throat, adding a bit of teeth, and Kaga is moaning, gasping, stuttering syllables, “Ts-Tsu-“ 

“You can call me Kimihiro,” Kimihiro says, raggedly, in between licks, and Kaga gasps, “ _Kimihiro-_ ” 

He’s riding Kaga’s thigh now, and when he reaches a hand down between  them, because _everything is ruined_ so he can do that now, he feels the hot, hard ridge of Kaga’s erection in his dress pants, and palms the length of it. Kaga makes a noise like he’s been shot, and Kimihiro fights with Kaga’s pants, cursing the once simple button and zipper. Kaga is wearing navy blue boxers, ones that Kimihiro has seen in their now-shared laundry, and he reaches in through the fly - bold, fearless, entirely not himself - to draw Kaga’s cock out. 

Kaga is, as Kimihiro had always suspected from surreptitious glances, fucking huge. His cock is warm and oddly - _silky_ \- is the word that comes to mind, silky to the touch, and Kimihiro wants to memorize all the ridges, all the veins, he wants to know how Kaga strokes himself when he's alone, where he’s sensitive, where he likes to be touched.

But this might be it, the first and last time he ever gets this chance, so he has no time to dawdle - he has to make this count.

It has to count. It has to count enough for the memory of this, just the memory of it, to sustain him through lifetimes. 

Everything is so precious. Every moment, every breath in and out, every press of fingertips, every single word, every expression.  

Kimihiro licks the side of Kaga’s throat again, and he can feel the way Kaga’s cock jumps and twitches in his hand. “Kimihiro…” Kaga groans, as Kimihiro slides to his knees. 

He’s thought about this, more times than he can count - more times than he would ever feel comfortable admitting but _everything is ruined_ \- so he says, dreamily, “I’ve gotten off thinking about sucking your cock,” and swallows Kaga whole. 

~

It’s lovely. It’s a whole other world, warm and wet, the pressure of Kaga filling his mouth, his throat, the taste of Kaga on his tongue, the musk that surrounds him, the feel of Kaga’s thighs, trembling around him. He strokes with his hand what he can’t quite swallow, urging Kaga’s cock deeper in. There’s a trick to it, breathing in with his nose, stroking the shaft, his other hand resting on Kaga’s flank. Far above and away, like the atmosphere of another planet, he can hear Kaga moaning, swearing, and Kimihiro loves it. He _loves_ it. It’s different than he imagined it would be - stranger - more uncomfortable - but it all has a hyperreal weight and solidity and sensation that he never could have imagined. It’s _Kaga_. It’s Kaga’s cock that he’s sucking, that he’s loving, that he’s lapping and licking up, that’s filling him up. It’s Kaga.

Everything is ruined, and so, so beautiful. 

Kaga is pushing his shoulders away, and Kimihiro whines in the back of his throat as Kaga pulls out, but when he looks up, Kaga’s eyes are blazing, and he’s pulling Kimihiro up. He’s tugging at Kimihiro’s own pants now, fumbling to open them, and Kimihiro feels startled to realise that he’s _so hard_ right now, almost painfully hard, a pearl of precum shining at the tip of his cock. Kaga lights up as if it’s Christmas when he sees this, and - Kimihiro’s mouth drops open in one ragged, breathless gasp - Kaga presses their cocks together, and strokes them both. Kaga's hands are rough and perfect and they need to never stop moving, ever. 

Kimihiro’s just babbling now, just trash, the kind of stuff that he doesn’t let himself say even in the privacy of his own mind, when he’s biting his lip to try to be quiet, stroking himself in bed: “I want you all the time, I think about fucking you, I think about pressing you down onto my bed and feeling you stroke me until I come all over your chest, I think about slipping into the bathroom while you’re taking a bath and just reaching into the bathwater and pumping you until you come in my hands,  I think about getting onto the floor with you and just shoving my cock into your mouth, just riding your face while you swallow me down-" 

Kaga shouts when he comes, while Kimihiro twists up wordlessly, his whole body strung tight until it explodes with sensation. His head is pounding, thickly, slowly, as if a whole universe of stars has been shaken up in there. His cock twitches, once more, as Kaga draws his come-sticky fingers up to his mouth, and licks. He realizes he’s basically collapsed against Kaga but when he tries to draw away, Kaga traps him tight, swift and warm, and nuzzles the side of his neck, and Kimihiro expects him to say something sexy and infuriating, like _“Round Two?”_ or _“Glad you skipped that test now, huh?”_ but instead Kaga is saying, brokenly, “I love you, Kimihiro, I love you.” 

~ 

He ends up skipping the rest of the afternoon. 

He doesn’t go home, either. Instead, when Kimihiro knocks at Shindou’s door, he tries for a smile and asks, “Could I possibly sleep over tonight?” 

~ 

He texts Mom that he’s sleeping over at Shindou’s; thankfully, it’s one of her evenings off, followed by a day off, so she’ll be home when Akane comes home from school, to make supper and to get her ready for bed, and for school the next morning. 

Mom texts back lightning-fast: _Did you and Kaga-kun have a fight?_

He doesn’t answer. 

Shindou’s mom is really nice, and makes sure that Kimihiro gets second helpings of everything. Shindou himself is bright and cheerful, talking about the insei school, and his study group, and the Young Lions Tournament, and, well, an awful lot about Touya Akira. Shindou’s mother looks like she’s rather used to it all. 

And Kimihiro tries to be normal - tries to be nice, mild-mannered, polite Tsutsui-san - and not think about the fact that Kaga’s come is drying sticky on his thighs, right now.  

Later, he’s grateful to shower, but he shivers to touch his own skin, and wonders how long it will before he can touch his own body, even in the most innocent of ways, without thinking of Kaga’s hands on him.

Maybe a long time. 

Maybe never. 

He turns down Shindou’s hopeful invitation to a Go match, surprising both Shindou and himself, but watches as, hilariously, Shindou appears to play a match against himself, muttering, or silent with concentration, and occasionally breaking out into shouts of, “You bastard-!” and “I know, I know - you don’t have to rub it in!” It’s fascinating, and a flashback to watching Shindou during Go club after school. 

Finally, at night, he’s lying on a futon on the floor, staring at the ceiling. The irony of this isn’t lost on him, and he wonders if Kaga is sticking to the floor, or if he’s realised that Kimihiro isn’t coming home tonight, and has decided to take the bed. 

Mom has texted him about seven times; the texts are all innocuous and unrelated to Kaga, which is saying something in and of itself. 

Kaga hasn’t texted him once. 

“Ne, Tsutsui-senpai,” Shindou says. 

Kimihiro starts; he’d thought Shindou would be asleep by now. 

“It’s nice to have you over,” Shindou says, “but are you okay?”

He picks over his words carefully. Shindou is and was “a good kid,” as he’d always said, defensively, to Kaga, who exclusively referred to Shindou as “that Brat.” Shindou’s perceptiveness and skill had grown by leaps and bounds when it came to Go, and when Kimihiro thinks about what that means for the future, if Shindou keeps growing at the same astonishing rate, he’s blown away. But this is the same boy who stomped all over Fujisaki’s feelings in a thousand small ways, in his pursuit of Touya Akira. His perceptiveness only goes so far. 

“Something happened today,” is what Kimihiro settles on saying. “And I’m trying to figure out how to deal with it.”

“Is it something to do with Kaga-senpai?” 

He doesn’t even have it in him to blush anymore. His heart and his body feel wrung out, exhausted, sore. If Shindou, who is oblivious to emotional undercurrents and scarily obsessed with Go, has managed to catch on, then his feelings must be a blaring foghorn.

“Yes, Shindou-kun,” he says, patiently, as if he’s talking to Akane. “It’s something to do with Kaga.” 

Shindou’s quiet for a moment. “You should talk to him, then. Clear things up,” he says, as if that settles things. “Ne, Tsutsui-senpai, are you crying?”

Kimihiro is actually laughing into his pillow. It’s hysterical laughter, sure, but laughter nonetheless. “I’m fine, Shindou-kun. I was just imagining what ‘talking’ to Kaga would look like.” 

“Well, at least he won’t dunk _you_ into an ice cold pool. You know,” Shindou muses, “he’s not actually as bad as I thought, at first.”

“Once you get past the fact that he’s an utter bastard, yes, he occasionally resembles a human.” 

Shindou’s voice cuts through the darkness when he says, “You sound like you really like him.” 

Kimihiro cover his eyes with his hands. “Shindou,” he says, “why do you keep running after Touya Akira?”

“Because he’s my rival.” There’s a great and unspoken _duh_ in Shindou’s voice. 

“Right. Despite the fact that he’s a pro now, and predicted to become Meijin at eighteen, and - never mind, you know all this already. Listen, Shindou, how do you know that Touya will be waiting for you, to get caught up to him?” 

Shindou’s voice is quieter, a bit uncertain. “I don’t.” 

“Right. So what’s the point of pursuing him…?” 

“Because if I don’t, then there’s no chance of _ever_ catching up! It’s like forfeiting, but forever!”

 _Like forfeiting, but forever_. Kimihiro sits up and says, his voice low, urgent, “Shindou-kun, what if you knew - what if you _knew absolutely_ \- that you could _never_ catch up to Touya Akira? That he would _never_ be looking back, waiting for you? What would you do?”

 Shindou’s voice is utterly comfortable as he says, “Well, then he wouldn’t be Touya.”

~ 

At school the next day, he doesn’t see Kaga at all. 

He gets up enough courage to approach the captain of the shogi club at lunch, but he says, irritated, “No, he hasn’t shown up. He didn’t show yesterday, either, that bastard. I know he’s good, but we have a tournament coming up and-" Kimihiro leaves before the captain even stops speaking. 

The girls in class are all eyeing him as if he’s dying of a terminal disease and he sees more than one handkerchief on display. He wonders, horrified, what everybody knows, or what everybody _thinks_ they know. Mawatari claps him on the back and says, “Sorry, bro,” but doesn’t explain any more of that. Sarumara comes up to him at lunchtime, and gives him a handful of wildflowers, wrapped in a cone of pink construction paper: daisies and pink moss and small yellow wild roses, curling at the edges. 

“From the girls in class,” she says, with that gentle, beautiful smile of hers that does nothing to lift his spirits. 

“Sarumara-san,” he asks, taking them, “these are beautiful, and I’m very grateful, but what are they for?” 

“They heard you broke up with your boyfriend.” Asa Homugi has been suspiciously silent all class, but now she’s slanting a look at Kimihiro. “Did you?”

“Not my boyfriend.” And then, for the sake of completeness, because he might as well double down on his humiliation, “And sort of, yes.”

Asa makes a disgusted noise. “I’m going to be watching the _Fast and the Furious 22_ on my tenth anniversary. Why couldn’t you stick it out, Tsutsui!?” She turns away, arms crossed. 

He checks his phone for the time, and there’s a text from his mom: _Meet me by the gates. We’re going for lunch_. 

When he gets outside, there’s a small group of people checking out his mom, who stands out with her bleached hair, her red leather jacket, her black Yamaha scooter. “Is she a movie star?” he hears one girl whispering to another. Kimihiro sighs, and waves a hand to his mother, who brightens up. 

“You’re embarrassing,” he says to her. “You’re an embarrassment to teenage sons everywhere.” 

She just clucks her tongue and plants a blue helmet on his head, saying, ”I know you’re just jealous that I have a real bike, and you don’t. Don’t worry, I’ll leave it to you in my will.”  

~ 

They get lunch at a small cafe a short drive away - or, at least, a short drive the way that Mom takes it, shredding across lines and giving the finger to anyone who dares to beep at her. Sometimes, Kimihiro is amazed that he has lived this long. 

“What do you want?” Mom asks, shrugging off her jacket, and Kimihiro’s about to order a hamburger steak except that it reminds him of Kaga, so he orders gyudon instead, with sunomono on the side, while Mom gets unadon. 

Because she’s his mom, she doesn’t wait until he’s done eating to interrogate him. He’s just lifted the first piece of beef to his mouth when she says, chin propped up on her fist, as if remarking on the weather, “You know, I always knew this would happen one day.”

“You knew we would eat donburi together one day…?” 

“I always knew you would develop feelings for Kaga-kun,” she clarifies, which just makes him choke and then gulp at his water. “I knew it the day that you came home from the cultural fair last year, wearing some other boy’s jacket and just ranting, _ranting_. I’d never seen you so passionate about anything except for Go. Not that you don’t love me or Akane,” she adds. “That’s just different - a gentler kind of feeling..." She trails off, then picks up the thread of her thought again. "I remember thinking, ah, I need to meet this boy, the one who makes my Kimihiro rant for hours on end. I thought the experience would be good for you, even if _he_ wasn’t."

She pauses for a moment and then adds, quietly, "How lucky for me, then, that he was.” 

Kimihiro puts down his chopsticks, carefully. He doesn’t feel that hungry anymore. “I can’t,” he starts to say, and then stops. But that really does seem to encompass all of it, so he says, again, “I can’t.” 

Mother tilts her head at him and asks, very gently, “Did Kaga-kun confess to you?” 

He stares at his rice bowl as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Sometimes, he wishes his Mom didn’t actually know everything about him. 

And then he nods.

“And did you tell him your feelings in return…?”

His head whips up and he says, panicked, again, “I _can’t_!”

Mother looks troubled. “I hate,” she says, slowly, “to think I’ve raised someone who can’t say _I love you_.” 

“It’s not that.” Kimihiro is shaking his head, trying to explain. “It’s not that! It’s different, saying it to you, or to Akane. I know you feel the same way. I know that if I say it-" The words come to him, for the first time, a shaft of clarity lighting up his brain, “I know that if I say it, you won’t go away.” 

Mother looks like she’s having a difficult time following this. “You think that if you say it, he’ll go away…?”

Well, said out loud like that, it just sounds stupid. 

“And what if he stays?” 

His throat unsticks. “Then it’ll just hurt more, later, when he _does_ go away. I’d rather not know it all,” and he can’t take back the rooftop, he can’t, he _knows_ that, that is done and gone and it will haunt him sweetly for the rest of his life - _everything is ruined, forever -_ but he can save what little of himself is left in its wake.

“I’d rather not know happiness at all,” he clarifies, “than know it, and have it taken away. It just seems like it would hurt so much more.” 

Mother absorbs this, appearing to think on it deeply for a minute or two. And then she reaches over, and slaps Kimihiro in the head. 

“Ow!!”  

“Who taught you this garbage? What the hell are they teaching you in school? Is it TV? Did you get this garbage from TV?” Mom looks _furious_ , as she stands up from the table. “Kimihiro, I don’t know any other way to say this to you: _the world will hurt you_. It will hurt you one way if you decide to love people, it’ll hurt another way if you decide not to. The first way is harder and scarier and yes it sucks, but it’s so much better _. So much_. If I didn’t choose the first way, I wouldn’t have you, or Akane, or any of the memories I have of your father, and I wouldn’t be half the person I am today. I don’t know why you think you’ll break, if love leaves you. Maybe that’s my fault, for not teaching  you better. But Kimihiro, you are stronger and wiser and better than you could ever know. You are strong enough to handle the pain that comes with loving someone, but if you aren’t brave _right now_ , you are going to lose someone who has been brave enough to love you. And you’re going to regret it.”

~

Mother had shouted at their poor waitress to pack up their food, and then driven back to school like a demon. Once they get back, he half-falls off the bike and slips the helmet from his head. Mother looked somewhat calmer, at least, and less like she wanted to hold Kimihiro upside down and literally shake some sense into him. 

“What are you going to do now?” 

The school bells ring, announcing the end of lunch. 

Kimihiro ignores them. “I’m going to stop being an cowardly idiot,” he decides, and Mom ruffles his hair, smiling. 

“Good luck, Kimihiro. Go be a brave idiot, and make your mother proud.” 

He finds Kaga on the rooftop.  He’d checked everywhere else that Kaga could be - in class, the smoking doors, in the library playing shogi - all the while having the sinking feeling that he’d know exactly where he could find Kaga, if he really wanted to find him. 

Kaga is lying on the rooftop, on his back, knees drawn up, volume 13 of TeniPuri draped over his face to keep off the sun. He must be able to hear Kimihiro’s footsteps, but he doesn’t move. 

Kimihiro kneels by him, and touches him on the shoulder. “Hey,” he says. 

Kaga doesn’t move. 

“ _Hey_ ,” Kimihiro says, shaking him a little bit more. “Stubborn idiot,” he mutters, and then he grabs the book off of Kaga’s face and thwaps him in the chest with it. 

“He-ey!” Kaga says, shooting up. Then he tries to look cool and disinterested, his eyes sliding away. “Oh, it’s you." 

“Yeah. It’s me.”

Kaga doesn’t offer up anything in response to that. 

“I think…” Kimihiro says, slowly. God, his heart is beating so hard, his vision is getting blurry at the edges, as if he's going to pass out at any moment. Is this what a panic attack feels like? he thinks, fuzzily. He fights that temptation to check WebMD for the most common symptoms of a panic attack, and sticks to his guns. “I think I owe you an apology.” 

“Great.” Kaga’s arms and legs are crossed, and he’s looking at some point far off in the distance.  “Apologise away.” 

God damn it, what an uncooperative, stubborn _ass-_

So Kimihiro does what he’s always tempted to do to make Kaga listen, and grabs him by the front of his shirt. 

“He-ey!” Kaga says again, wide eyed, as now they’re face to face, only a couple of inches away. 

“Look,” Kimihiro says, “I - this is hard for me, okay? So just shut up and let me talk for a bit, otherwise I’ll completely lose my nerve.” Kaga glares at him, stubborn and silent, and it hurts his heart to look at him - so Kimihiro closes his eyes, so he won’t be distracted. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally. “I’m sorry for running away yesterday. That - that wasn’t good of me.” 

Kaga snorts. “You think?” he mutters, but Kimihiro ignores that. 

“I got… scared. I got very confused. I acted without thinking, and it… I didn’t know how to deal with it.” 

Kaga snorts. When he speaks, his voice is flat and bitter in a way that Kimihiro doesn’t recognize. “Cut to the chase, Tsutsui. You regret fucking me. Fine. I’d regret fucking me, too. The end. Won’t happen again. I’ll move out and I won’t ever bug you again, and-“ 

“Will you just shut up and _listen_ to me-“  

And Kimihiro finds himself kneeling between Kaga’s legs, and kissing him. 

The first time, in the heat of the moment, he’d barely even registered it. How it felt. But now he has all the time in the world, to register Kaga’s soft, sharp intake of breath, to feel his mouth moving under Kimihiro’s, to take in the way that Kaga cautiously draws his arms around Kimihiro and pulls him ever so slightly nearer. The _warmth_ of him. Kimihiro touches his tongue to Kaga’s bottom lip and feels him sigh, feels it with his whole body. It’s like there’s something soft and glowing in his chest, a small star slowly blossoming into life. When they break apart, they’re both breathing heavily, and Kimihiro rests his forehead against Kaga’s, trying to think through the haze that has clouded his mind. 

What he should say, now, is, _I love you_. What he does say, out loud is, “You terrify me.” 

Somehow, Kaga’s hand has found its way up, and he’s cupping Kimihiro’s cheek again. “The hell?” he asks, mystified. 

Kimihiro closes his eyes again, leaning into the feeling of Kaga’s warm palm cradling his face. He feels more naked now than when they’d been shoving against each other, yesterday, half-dressed and panting like animals in heat. 

“Your life,” he says, “is going to be wonderful, and filled with so many amazing things. And I’m - I’ve been afraid, this whole time, of what will happen to me, when you finally go and live that life, and leave me behind.”

Kaga says, “Tsutsui-“ but Kimihiro shakes his head. “Let me finish, please?”

Kaga falls silent. 

“Because you’re a part of my whole life, now. You’re woven into the fabric of it. At school, at home, with Go. You’re just… a part of things. And I was thinking, if it’s this bad now, now when we’re just friends, now when I just have these _feelings_ for you,” and he hears Kaga’s breath hitch in his throat, “how much worse would it be, if we were something more? How much worse, when I finally get left behind?”

Kaga is still silent. 

“So you see,” Kimihiro says, relieved to have finally explained, to have said the thing clearly. “That’s why I ran away.”

Kaga seems to be ruminating. With his other hand, he’s running his fingertips back and forth across Kimihiro’s back. Even through his uniform jacket, it’s incredibly distracting. 

“Tsutsui?”

“Yeah?”

He feels almost sleepy, almost safe, cradled here. It’s nice, really, Kimihiro reflects, having this little safe moment, before his heart is completely broken. A moment to nest inside of, to remember, to hold dear, take out for once in a while and say, _Ah, yes. I had this one moment. This one moment where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt_.

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Wha-“ 

And Kaga says, “You terrify me too.”

But the way he says it, it just sound tender, it sounds like a confession, it sounds like _I love you, Kimihiro_ , and this time, like the first time, Kaga is kissing him, and any words of protest fly right out of Kimihiro’s head.

~

 

Time sort of… slips by, in this bubble where they talk, and make out, and argue, and make out, and clarify things, and make out some more. There’s no heat to it, really, no lust; the feelings coursing through Kimihiro are too paradigm-shifting to be reduced to rutting. They’re just… suffused with bewildering, all-encompassing loveliness. 

Also, there’s all the surprises. 

“ _What_!?” Kimihiro sputters. “ _That’s_ why you ran away!?”

 At this point, their uniform jackets are off and they are what Kaga has dubbed “cuddling,” lying on the rooftop together with Kimihiro draped over Kaga’s chest. Kimihiro had already threatened to kill him if he told anyone about it, and Kaga had just rolled his eyes and adjusted his hold on Kimihiro’s hip.  

“Yup,” Kaga says. His voice is soft and serious and slow, so quiet that if Kimihiro wasn't tucked up tightly against him, he wouldn't be able to hear him at all. “We’d never really gotten along ever since I ‘won’ that match against Touya. Dad kind of gave up on me, after that. We lived in the same house, but it wasn’t like being family. Last year or so, he started carping at me about when I was going to bring a gorgeous girl home, and one day at dinner, I just snapped and..."

A grin enters Kaga's voice. 

"... said that I was a cocksucker.”

Kimihiro just _stares_. 

Kaga squints at the sky. “After that, well… it didn’t make any sense to stay at home.”

And Kimihiro is, for once, absolutely speechless. He recovers about a decade later. “So - so when we were over at your house, and your dad saw me-“

“Yup.” 

"I..." The enormity of all of it threatens to take Kimihiro's brain entirely offline, and he struggles for words. "So you - you - and _me,_ I was-" 

Kaga shifts them so that they're eye to eye. "What," he says, sounding amused and far gentler than Kimihiro ever thought he was capable of, "are you feeling guilty now?"

Kimihiro wrestles, mutely, as he tries to think of a convincing way to lie. Instead, he feels Kaga's forehead pressing into his. 

"Don't," he says, and his voice is so warm that it makes Kimihiro shudder, instinctively, aching. "Me and dad - this goes back years between us. I didn't," and that amusement is lacing his voice again, "didn't crash and burn my whole family life to chase after your ass, Kimihiro." 

"Well I know _that_ ," Kimihiro says, mortified. "No one would ever-"

He would like to say that he has quick enough reflexes that Kaga doesn't manage to pin him down, but, well. He's always been a crap liar.

"But you're worth it, Kimihiro," Kaga says, his voice low with a sweetness that is going to wreck Kimihiro _absolutely_ and make it damn impossible for him to stay mad at Kaga for any reasonable length of time. Kaga's mouth crowds against Kimihiro's, and even if Kimihiro doesn't believe him, he has to applaud Kaga's attempts to convince him. 

Probably around a decade later, Kimihiro tries to reboot his brain, and steer them onto safer ground - or at least, something he’d always been curious about, since now seems the time to get all the embarrassing truths out. “Last year, at the cultural fair…” he says. “You still seemed really, er, obsessed with Touya Akira, but I haven’t really heard you talk about him since then. What…”

“What changed? Hmm. Probably seeing how the Brat’s super obsessed with him. He just looked so pathetic and deranged, shouting about how they were eternal rivals - it just creeped me right out. You were also really distracting,” he adds, as if it’s an afterthought. 

“I - !? How was _I_ -!?”

“You looked fucking adorable in my jacket. And you were so fucking cute at the tournament too, telling me when you won your game. That _tournament_!” Kaga is chuckling now, and Kimihiro can feel the rumbles all throughout his chest, from where they’re pressed together. “That joseki book made me _so mad_. Why couldn’t you see you were too good for it? I didn’t just want to throw it in the trash, I wanted to set it on fire.” 

“It was a necessary tool at the time,” Kimihiro began, the way he always does in this argument, “like training wheels, for a beginner-“

“You were not a _beginner_ , Tsutsui. Beginners do not fucking slaughter their opponents by twenty moku in the end game.” 

“I _was_ really proud of that game,” Kimihiro remembers. “That was a good one.” 

“I don’t think I ever told you this at the time, but it was really fucking hot.”  

Kimihiro freezes. “No,” he says, “you definitely did not tell me that at the time. This past year would have been _very different if you had told me that at the time-_ ” 

Kaga has turned his head, so he is looking at him. It is a look that Kimihiro can read now, there - a look that is filled with heat, that is filled with _intent_ , with no uncertainty behind it like before. 

“I lied to my dad,” he says, as his mouth drifts closer to Kimihiro’s. 

“About what?” Kimihiro asks, distracted.  

“You’ve got me beat - despite what I said, I haven’t actually sucked any cocks. Well…” Kaga tilts his head ever so slightly, to better fit their mouths together. “Not yet, anyway.” 

That thing that Kimihiro had been thinking before, about ‘no lust’? 

Yeah, fuck that.

~ 

Kimihiro is going to _cry_.

Kaga is treating this as revenge for yesterday, which is evident by the way he says, cheerfully, “This is revenge for yesterday,” while nuzzling at Kimihiro through his dress pants. 

“This is incredibly unfair,” Kimihiro says, through gritted teeth. “‘I’m already being punished for yesterday," (Kaga had demanded that he not move his hands, but keep them balled at his sides, not touching himself or Kaga and gah life is _hard_ ), "so why does there need to be revenge too?”

“Oh, the punishment is just for running away. The revenge is for spouting all that _incredible filth_ and running away before we could follow up on any of it.” Kaga is, _thank God_ , actually thumbing open Kimihiro’s dress pants as he talks, then he stops and says, with that cheerful, bloodthirsty grin that Kimihiro finds distressingly hot, “You know, I think we should be naked for this.”

That actually makes Kimihiro sit up and hiss, “Kaga! It's the middle of a _school_ day!”

Kaga stares at him and then - that bastard - laughs so hard that he is literally doubled up, _laughing_. There are tears coming from his eyes and everything.

Kimihiro looks down at his erection and silently tells it, _You have the worst taste in men_. 

“This,” Kaga chortles, clutching at his sides, “from the guy who just gave me _the_ _world’s hottest blowjob_ , on this very roof, just yesterday-“ 

Kimihiro knows this is all surreal and ridiculous, but he feels himself flush and crosses his arms, trying to ward off his feelings of simultaneous embarrassment, anger, and arousal - so, all the things that he normally feels around Kaga. 

“It was not ‘the world’s hottest,’” he mutters. “I don’t know what basis of comparison you have, and I frankly don’t _want_ to know, but-“ 

Kaga’s fingers are warm on his chin as he makes Kimihiro look at him. “There _is_ no basis,” he says, his voice clear and absolutely serious. “I’ve never been with anyone else. I don’t want to _be_ with anyone else.”

Kimihiro’s mind goes into freefall for the second time in as many days. 

“S-so - so that means - that y-you-“

“Were a virgin? Yup. You popped my cherry,” and Kaga looks entirely too pleased by this state of affairs. “Hey,” he says, his voice going a bit dark, “you haven’t-“ 

“No, no! God, no! Who _with_ , honestly!?”  

Kaga relaxes. “Oh good, I don’t have to kill anyone. Man, you don’t know how stressful the last year has been. Every time I was sure that you had a boner for me, I’d turn around and you’d be making eyes at that class rep, or the Brat’s girlfriend, or that big-breasted chick in the Go club-“

“She has a name, Kaga, it’s _Asa Homugi_ -!” And well, okay, although he thinks that he's never "made eyes" at any of those girls, he can't actually deny that he’s had a boner, or many boners, for Kaga, especially with the one that he has right now. He’s suddenly stricken with horror. “Oh gods, Asa is going to be so _happy_ when she finds out about this. We’re going to be forced to double-date with her and Mawatari-kun, and watch terrible movies, and-”

Kaga’s eyes crinkle up at him in a smile. It’s almost as if Kaga is happy too. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“ _Romantic comedies,_ Kaga,” Kimihiro said darkly, with all the experience of living with a rom-com-loving-mom. “Where movies go to die.”

“I dunno,” Kaga says, starting to unbutton Kimihiro’s shirt. “I’d kind of like to feel you up in a movie theatre.”

“What are you-“

“Getting naked,” Kaga says, way too casually, untucking Kimihiro’s shirt from his waistband. “You were taking too long.” 

He swats Kaga’s hands away. “Let me do that!” he says, taking his own jacket and shirt off, and then pauses. “What?” He’d expected Kaga to do the same, to start undressing himself, but Kaga is just looking at him with that same, steady - _happy_ \- look on his face. “Well, _what_?”

“Nothing. I just enjoy watching you get undressed.”

“Weirdo,” Kimihiro murmurs, standing up so that he can take off his pants properly, and Kaga stands up with him. 

“You have no idea how hard it’s been not to corner you in your bedroom,” Kaga says. To Kimihiro’s relief, he’s started to take his clothes off as well. “You’d come in from the bath, all wet, and I would just think about shoving you down and rubbing myself against you like a dog, and then you’d be like, ‘Well! Time to do my homework!’ and ignore me for the rest of the night. It was _torture_.”

Kimihiro feels himself blushing, but that might be because of the way that Kaga is removing his belt right now, with one smooth, sure gesture. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” he says to his feet. “I was always - _aware_ of you.”  

“Yeah?” Kaga’s voice is warm, and very near. “How aware?” 

“Very aware,” he murmurs. They’re both naked now, and standing on the rooftop, and Kimihiro is glad that it's mid-May, sunshiny, drowsy. He lets his hand drift down to cup Kaga’s balls, and is gratified by the shiver that goes through him. He’s about to sink to his knees again, but Kaga grabs him by the wrists.

“Nuh-uh,” Kaga says, again, _happily_. “You know, I really don’t trust you to remember the terms of your punishment-“

~

 

Which is how Kimihiro winds up lying on his back on the rooftop, wrists tied up with his school tie. His, because Kaga refused to wear a tie out of sheer principle.  

“You know,” Kimihiro says, trying not to sound breathless and aroused even though he is, dammit, incredibly breathless and aroused, “this could constitute forcible confinement-“ 

Kaga sounds amused. Damn him. “Did you just delete the last five minutes, where I said I was going to tie you up, and you said ‘yes please with a cherry on top’? Do you have short-term memory loss?”

“I did not say, ‘with a cherry on top’-“ 

“But you did say ‘yes please.’ I’m pretty sure _that_ constitutes informed consent.”

“Damn you and your logical - logic,” Kimihiro says, and thinks he can be forgive for whimpering at the end, because Kaga has chosen that movement to lick into the crease of his hip. Kaga seems to be operating on the principle that they have all the time in the world, because he is going about things slowly. _Incredibly_ slowly. After that, Kimihiro’s rendered non-verbal for awhile, as Kaga licks up the inside of his thighs, inching ever closer to his cock without ever actually touching it. 

“You know,” Kimihiro manages to creak at some point, “usually, a blow job usually involves some kind of - _fuck_!” he swears, as Kaga blows a light stream of air over the tip of Kimihiro’s cock, which would make him jump up if Kaga hadn’t had him pinned down by the hips. “What the hell!?”

“Some kind of blowing, right?” Kaga says, fake-innocent, before he dips down and nuzzles the base of Kimihiro’s cock. 

“I hate you,” Kimihiro chants, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I-…” Kaga noses his way up into his pubic hair. “You-ohhhh...“ and he breaks off into a moan as Kaga starts licking him, just at the base of his cock, little soft vanilla licks, tentative, testing, maddening.

“Take it easy on me,” Kaga says, but there’s laughter shaking in his voice. He presses kisses all along the shaft, some of them wetter and sloppier than others, and Kimihiro swears he can feel his eyes crossing as he fights not to sob with how _good_ it feels. “It’s my first time sucking a cock. I want to get it right.”

Kimihiro’s wrists strain against the knotted tie as his whole body curls up into the sensation of Kaga’s mouth.“Have you heard that saying,” Kimihiro says, unsteadily, “‘practise makes perfect’?” 

“No,” Kaga says, that _bastard_.  “What does it mean?”

“It means,” Kimihiro says, steadier now, moving into lecture mode, “that you should really-“ And then words. Cease. Because the tip of his cock has been swallowed by Kaga’s mouth, Kaga’s warm, wet, wonderful, articulate mouth, and god damn, god damn, god _damn_. His tongue is moving, and Kimihiro’s whole body is lit up from within, pure pleasure flooding him all the way to his fingertips. One of Kaga’s hand has moved up, to stroke at his nipples, and it’s too good, it’s too _soon_ , he wants to last, but Kaga’s been teasing him for so long already, and _fuck,_ Kaga’s moaning, growling around him, sending small vibrations through his cock, through the rest of his body. Kaga pulls off for a moment, and Kimihiro whines, sharply, pounding at Kaga’s back, but Kaga just says, his voice low and husky, “You can call me Tetsuo,” which is _so fucking cheesy_ and Kimihiro will definitely mock him roundly for it later, but it is also, at the same time, _intensely arousing_. Kaga puts his mouth back where it should always be, and Kimihiro thinks of Kaga - of _Tetsuo_ \- saying, _You terrify me too,_ and he doesn’t call him “Tetsuo” so much as he says his name pleadingly, begging, not even sure what he’s begging for, and then everything - everything - everything - 

Overall, Kaga’s pretty decent about Kimihiro’s come splattering all over his chest. 

“So - fucking - _hot_ ,” he says, in between kissing Kimihiro. He sounds dirty, triumphant, he sounds like someone who should be naked all the time. Instead of replying, Kimihiro finds himself licking his own come from Kaga’s chest, which Kaga seems to approve of, if the way that he hisses and the way that his cock jerks and drips onto Kimihiro’s stomach is any indication. 

Kimihiro doesn’t have the patience to tease. He sucks Kaga down, stroking him hard and fast, merciless, and even when he feels Kaga clutching at his shoulder, saying, “I’m-“ he hangs on, and Kaga pulses warmly down his throat, bitter and salty and _good_. He emerges gasping, and Kaga pulls him close and kisses him as if it’s the first time, as if it’s the last time, as if it’s the only time.

“You know,” Kaga says, thoughtfully, afterwards, when they’re naked and drowsing against each other on the roof.  “You got me to put out without ever telling me you loved me.”

The bell’s ringing for the end of classes. Both of them are ignoring it. 

“Oh my god, you absolutely spoiled brat,” Kimihiro says, exasperated and sleepy. “ _I love you_ , you moron. There, are you happy, now?   Are you-“ 

Kaga kisses him again, as if to say he is.

They are. 

~

When they get home, Mom has streamers, non-alcoholic champagne, and a fucking, honest-to-God _cake_. It says, “Congratulations Kimihiro-san and Kaga-kun!!!” on it in loopy pink writing. 

“It’s a cookies and cream ice cream cake!” Mom says, excited. “The occasion totally called for it!” 

A part of Kimihiro is just grateful that it is not in the shape of a penis. 

Meanwhile, Akane is running around the apartment, armed with a noisemaker and a whole box of champagne poppers that she had managed to steal from god knows where. She pauses in the middle of running to give Kaga a Very Firm Look.

“This means you’re staying forever, right?”

Kimihiro gives her an Equally Firm Look, and opens his mouth to let her know about the realities of the world, about expectations and emotions and how nothing is guaranteed -  

But Kaga beats him to it. His hand curls around Kimihiro’s and he says, “Yeah. That’s exactly what it means.” 

 

**~ OWARI!**

 

_It is a risk to love._

_What if doesn't work out?_

_Ah, but what if it does._  

\- Peter McWilliams 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 14, 2017: Minor edits, and also I changed the opening "prologues" to omakes, little bonus chapters that come after the meat of the main story. 
> 
> ~ 
> 
> Chen: *throws up her hands* OH THANK GOD IT’S OVER  
> Three earlier scenes that got skipped: Hi, remember us?  
> Chen: *creys*  
> Scenes: Life is not actually a wish-granting factory full of unicorns and smutbunnies. At some point, you have to pay the piper.  
> Chen: DELETE KEY, MY BESTEST FRIEND~ 
> 
> LONGEST AUTHOR’S NOTES EVER I SWEAR I AM NOT USUALLY THIS BLATHERY, GUYS 
> 
> Over the month of April, I churned out 58 000 words of a messy first draft of a novel for Camp NaNoWriMo. In between, I wrote bits of this “fun” little story. It was my reward for clocking in 2000 words a day, my “oh you can have one little piece after you’ve eaten your vegetables” story. As Nano dragged on, this story grew into 25 000 words of tantalizingly sexy dessert and yes I am mixing my metaphors. 
> 
> This story has been a joy to write. It demanded to be written, and I am grateful for that - so rarely does the muse knock so persistently and insistently at one’s door. This muse apparently really likes dumb assholes in love having sex on rooftops. Also, Japanese food. Thanks, muse! 
> 
> I am aware that this fic’s characterization veers from canon - canon was the tip of the iceberg, and I steered things in my own direction, both forwards and back. Kaga’s backstory is canon, but Kimihiro’s backstory, family, WONDERFULLY BITCHY SIDE, etc, is my own headcanon, cobbled out of many bits and bobs. I realised afterwards that I may have unconsciously channeled Kimihiro Watanuki for some of his characterization and then I basically went, “EH!” and rolled with it. My goal for this story was to write Vulnerable!Kaga, and SexuallyConfident!Tsutsui, and I am happy with how that turned out. 
> 
> Also, I seem have to unconsciously peopled this fictional world with awesome ladies, because Hikago makes me sad with its lack of awesome ladies. Most of the time they talk at Kimihiro about his love life. Bechdel test pass impossible, given the POV of this fic, but all the ladies delighted me immensely.
> 
> Some credits:  
> \- The definition of "yose" is from whatever fansub of Hikago I've been watching on YT. Thank you, fansubbers! You make the pirate world go round.  
> \- One line (you know the one) is from Kurt Vonnegut.  
> \- One line is stolen gleefully from Gilmore Girls: “I hate to think I’ve raised someone who can’t say I love you.” So good!  
> \- Ah, the Peter McWilliams quote at the end. The backbone of this whole story. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you got a kick out of it too!


	2. Mother Knows Best (Omake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mama Tsutsui gives Kaga the Talk. It’s exactly as horrifying as it sounds.
> 
> Missing scene in "Still Disputed Territory."

 

Honoka-sama, suffix deliberate, is the most awesome adult female that Tetsuo has ever met. 

But because she is Tsutsui’s mother, it seems natural that she’s also the meanest. 

Most bafflingly of all, she seems to be both at the same time. Case in point: she texts him to meet her at the corporate bar where she works, which is all execs in suits who look askance at his school uniform, his untucked shirt, his hair, but they just shrug and leave him alone after Honoka-sama shoots them a blinding smile and a thumbs up, saying, “This is my future son-in-law!”

But when he actually sits down on a stool, she gives him a fucking glass of milk. 

He stares at it. “I am not drinking that.” 

She gives him an awesome, terrifying smile. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Kimihiro-chan that you took pictures of him napping, like a creeper.” 

He breaks out into a cold sweat. _How the hell does she -_

“The milk, Kaga-kun?” 

She adds a swizzle stick to the glass. It has a tiny blue whale at the end of it.

“So, Kaga-kun,” Honoka-sama asks, “what happened with you and your father?” 

The conversation about his father feels brutal, endless. Mostly, Tetsuo remembers bursting with words, babbling, trying to explain what the last year has been like, the last few years, the last _lifetime_. How it had made him feel precious, proud, to be able to continue the dream that his father had given up to pursue a more stable job, to provide for his family. As a child, it had been harder for him to see how things had changed, when his father’s encouragement had become unyielding, suffocating; as an adult, he can see the roots of it go far, far back to when his mother left. 

She’s good, his mother; she sends Tetsuo e-mails, once in a while, from Germany, where she works in PR, repping some hot shot tennis star. Her e-mails are lively and detailed and overly cheerful, more invested than he remembers her being when she was actually still at home. She always attaches pictures to her e-mails: of the Gerry Weber Stadion when it’s just about to close, the rain that escapes through the ever-narrowing opening; of hot pretzels smeared with mustard, of lattes, of moist slices of dark chocolate cake; of the blurred view outside her window when she travels by high speed rail; and of the plants that grow riotously in her small apartment, as if it’s a herbarium. _Feel free to come visit us, any time_ , she says. _Riza would love to meet you._

He empties himself of words, not sure if he’s making sense. Sometimes he has to break off, so that Honoka-sama can serve up a drink or five and chat lightly with her regulars, but mostly she wipes a countertop or the glasses, and listens to him, until his throat is raw and his eyes are completely, thankfully, dry. 

__

 

__

“Kaga-kun,” she says, “I can’t promise that things will be easy for you. I can’t speak for your father - he has to speak for himself. I hope you’re able to speak to each other, and to listen to each other, too. But in the meantime, I don’t want you to worry about where you’re going to spend each night. So you can stay with us, as long as you like.” 

__

 

__

Ashamed, vicious, he rubs a knuckle into his eyes. It’s more than he ever dreamed of - more than he deserves. 

__

 

__

“But,” she says, “there are a couple of conditions.”

__

 

__

He straightens up. Good behaviour, straight As, cooking every night, paying rent, free babysitting, a blood oath - he’s prepared for any demand, no matter how outrageous it is. 

__

 

__

“One,” and she looks deadly serious, “if you’re going to have sex, lock the door.” 

__

 

__

He’s already finished the milk, so he chokes on saliva, air, and his own humiliation instead. 

__

 

__

“I cannot emphasize this enough.” She is definitely giving him crazy eyes, her towel thrown over one shoulder, palms flat on the countertop of the bar as she leans forward, her voice fervent and intense. “Again, One: _Lock the door_. I do not want to be paying for therapy for my daughter twenty years from now, because Niichan and Kaga-niichama got a little too handsy for her tiny brain to comprehend.” 

__

 

__

“Honoka-sama,” he says, through gritted teeth, “it’s _really_ not like that.”  

__

 

__

She leans back, looking extremely skeptical. “Really? I _know_ teenage boys, Kaga-kun. Kimihiro-chan is the sweetest boy in the world and has absolutely no idea how much he looks like his father, but I’ve _seen_ you checking out his ass.”

__

 

__

Tetsuo really, really, _really_ wishes he could drown himself in all of the liquor that Honoka-sama is cruelly barring him from. 

__

 

__

“Two,” she says ( _Oh god, how many steps is this talk going to be?_ ), “you are both _really_ young. Please don’t feel that you have to do everything right away. I know, I know - teenage boys, hormones, the springtime of youth - but honestly, _don’t_ do anything that either of you are uncomfortable with. Build up to it, build up some trust with each other, and just enjoy the journey together.”

__

 

__

This is almost good, normal advice that may not be entirely sexual in nature, so Tetsuo makes the classic mistake of relaxing his guard. 

__

 

__

“ _Three_.” Honoka-sama looks scary again, as if a demon has taken over her body. “ _Consent is not the absence of a no. It is the presence of an enthusiastic yes._ ”

__

 

__

At that point, Tetsuo actually tries to run away. He ignores the clapping and cheers from the bar clientele when Honoka-sama manages to brain him in the head with a soft plastic bottle of mojito mix and drag him back to his stool. 

__

 

__

“Oh don’t be such a baby,” she says blithely. “I could’ve bottled you, but Kimihiro-chan would have cried if I cut your pretty face.”

__

 

__

“How are you not in prison?” Tetsuo mutters, pressing ice cubes wrapped in a spare bartending towel to the spot where the bottle had thwarted him. 

__

 

__

“How do you know I haven’t been?” she asks, breezy and amoral. “Four, I know I just said all that about building up to things naturally, but honestly, I would also like to be realistic: there are a _lot_ of things you should know about anal sex. The internet is not the most reliable resource, but I took the liberty of checking out some credible and well-researched library books for you that-“

__

 

__

This time, he manages to make it out the door. 

__

 

__

He doesn’t get very far, because Honoka-sama finishes up her shift and chases him down the street, then bullies him into helping her get groceries. She does not, thankfully, try to give him any more fucking advice about deflowering her son. 

__

 

__

Not that Tetsuo hasn’t thought about it, especially when Tsutsui’s glasses slide down his nose and he blushes, the colour flooding his cheeks and his throat. Tetsuo has the unfortunate knowledge that Tsutui is still hopeless, 90% of the time, at buying clothes that fit him, which means he has t-shirts that occasionally slip off his shoulder, exposing the pale slope of his skin, his collarbones, in a way that makes Tetsuo’s throat dry. 

__

 

__

Tetsuo knows, now, that Tsutsui wakes up in the morning, prickly as a hedgehog, with his hair an absolute mess in his face, glowering at the world as if everything in it personally offends him.  Tetsuo’s been claimed by the urge, far more times than he has actually given into, to throw his uniform jacket over Tsutsui’s face when he’s at his most earnest. He doesn’t want anyone else - just the thought of Tsutsui’s god damn harem makes his blood boil- getting to see that wide open, naked look on Tsutsui’s face. He doesn't want anyone else to know these intimate things that Tetsuo is greedy for, that he wants to hoard and keep. Things that he knows he doesn't deserve. 

__

 

__

Tetsuo is almost grateful that Tsutsui wears those fucking glasses most of the time; without them, he’s infuriating, distracting, so obviously meant to be kissed, to be manhandled, to be pressed down, to be roughed up, until he’s gasping, arching. Tetsuo knows, at the very deep core of himself, that he is not good enough, will never be good enough, to be the one that gets to do these things, but he still _wants_. He wants and he wants and he wants, all those secret, hot, seething things, and all these other ordinary things - he doesn’t know which is more embarrassing. He wants for Tsutsui to make him ridiculous fucking breakfasts and slouch around the house swallowed up by Tetsuo’s hoodies and to sit as close to Tetsuo as possible, a warm presence crowded right up against him, as they’re press ganged by Akane-chan into watching the Beauty and the Beast Christmas special for the thousandth time.  

__

 

__

And it’s as if somehow, Honoka-sama has divined all of this. But she had let him stay anyway which, he thought, was a kind of miracle of trust, in itself. He’ll do his best to live up to it. 

__

 

__

~

__

 

__

Much, much later, he’s in the middle of making out with Tsutsui (door _locked,_ rule number one really was an excellent rule). Tsutsui looks good in bed, flushed and panting, pants on the floor, white t-shirt rucked up partway. He _feels_ fucking amazing, legs wrapped around Tetsuo’s waist, and Tetsuo is sure that one day, he’ll get over being amazed by this, this feeling of being bowled over in wonderment every time that Tsutsui slants him a slutty look, or when he lets Tetsuo puts his hands on him without jumping away and stuttering and making up some shitty excuse to scuttle away like “Oh! I think I smell the rice burning!” But today is not that day. 

__

 

__

“I do not have a ‘slutty look,’” Tsutsui says, breathless. He’s looking at up Tetsuo through his eyelashes, eyes at half-mast, and the bottom of his mouth is red, swollen, wet-looking. He has a habit of biting on his lower lip when Tetsuo’s doing something particular delicious to him, but the lip-biting doesn’t prevent the moans escaping from him, which Tetsuo is profoundly grateful for, because the sound always goes straight to his dick. 

__

 

__

Tetsuo lowers himself so that their noses are touching. “You totally have a slutty look,” he says, letting his words fan out over Tsutsui’s mouth, not quite touching, just so he can watch the way that Tsutsui’s eyes flutter almost but not quite close. Fuck. “You have a slutty look right now. And when you’ve got my dick in your mouth. And when-“ 

__

 

__

Tsutsui darts up and puts his tongue into Tetsuo’s mouth, and that effectively ends the conversation for awhile. 

__

 

__

At some later juncture, when Tsutsui is now on top of Tetsuo, a warm, torturous weight against his balls, Tetsuo sort of bolts up and realizes, “ _Holy shit._ ”

__

 

__

Tsutsui leans back, shirtless, curious. There’s a tender-looking spot on his throat that will deepen into a bruise later, Tetsuo thinks, filing that thought away for later smug remembrances, but for now, he’s horror-stricken. “I think your mom is an evil genius.” 

__

 

__

At that, Tsutsui actually scrambles off of him and tugs his shirt back on, which is - okay, disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. “My _mom_?” he screeches. Tsutsui always insists he doesn’t, and Tetsuo swears he’s going to record one of these conversations one day, so he can bring it up in the middle of a future fight. 

__

 

__

“Uh,” he says. “Ages ago, she was trying to tell me some stuff about anal sex, but I think she did it to, uh, freak me out. Some reverse psychology bullshit-“ 

__

 

__

After that, Tetsuo has to explain the whole thing, naturally, which ends with Tsutsui hyperventilating on the floor while Tetsuo strokes his back and tries not to have an aneurysm laughing. 

__

 

__

“It’s not _funny-_ " Tsutsui wails. 

__

 

__

“It’s a _little_ funny,” Tetsuo points out. He’s had months to get over this shit, for the humiliation to wear off, mostly. And the occasional bitterness too, in those moments of self-doubt, when that pretty class rep referred to Tsutsui as “our Tsutsui-kun,” or whenever Fujisaki’s adorable, brightly wrapped packages popped up in the kitchen, or whenever he remembered his father’s refrain, _Not good enough_ , and was positive that Tsutsui would see what an utterly garbage human being he was and just tell him straight up, in that totally gentle, polite way he has for everyone else, “I’m sorry, but we can’t be friends anymore. Also, please stop jerking off while thinking about me in the shower. It’s really embarrassing.” 

__

 

__

“Why didn’t you mention this sooner!?” 

__

 

__

“Well…” Tetsuo scratches at the back of his head, fumbling for the words, feeling like a chasm has opened before him. “I didn’t want…” 

__

 

__

Not just not to scare Tsutsui off. That was part of it, but - 

__

 

__

“I was scared,” he says, quietly. 

__

 

__

It’s enormous, really. Tetsuo’s seen plenty of porn, of course, and before all this, he’d been cynical about sex, feeling it was guaranteed that his first time would be awkward and awful and fumbling, and certain that sex was an entirely separate thing from love. What’s strange about being with Tsutsui is not moving from innocence to experience, not necessarily. What’s strange is how experience seems to be opening him up, softening him, forcing him to shed some of his cynicism about how he assumed the world works. He feels _humbled_ , grateful, to know that he was so wrong about so many things. 

__

 

__

Sex may be a separate thing from love. But it didn’t mean they couldn’t both be present, at the same time. 

__

 

__

Tsutsui is looking back at him. He looks nervous again, a deer about to bound away, but so sweet, as if he hadn’t taken the whole bull by the horns and given Tetsuo a blow job before even getting up the nerve to hold his hand. 

__

 

__

“Me too,” Tsutsui says, hushed, but with the relief of sharing a secret. “Not just of doing it, but even - talking about it.”

__

 

__

“Like you didn’t want to jinx it,” Tetsuo says, quietly, finding it easier to use the second person. 

__

 

__

Tsutsui seems to hear him crystal clear, though. He reaches over, and laces Tetsuo’s hand in his own. 

__

 

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“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah.” 

__

 

__

They sit there in silence for a moment, and Tsutsui once more proves that even though he cries easily at movies, he is still actually the braver of the two of them. He says, shyly, “I _have_ thought about it,” which makes Tetsuo’s blood roar in his ears. 

__

 

__

“Ye-yeah?” he croaks. 

__

 

__

Tsutsui smiles, triumphant, and once in a while, Tetsuo regrets that Tsutsui knows exactly how stupid he is about him. 

__

 

__

“Yes,” Tsutsui says, primly, “I occasionally touch myself thinking about you fucking me in the ass. Oh my god, did your eyes just cross?”

__

 

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“No,” Tetsuo grinds out, trying to uncross his eyes. 

__

 

__

Tsutsui’s voice becomes softer. “I’ve thought about it - and I _do_ want to, and I know I want to do it with you, but - I don’t think I’m ready, not quite yet. I think I could be, someday. Is that okay with you? Tetsuo-kun?”

__

 

__

One of Tsutsui’s hands is warm on the side of his face, and Tetsuo thinks, _unfair_ , because it always guts him when Tsutsui says his name just like that. 

__

 

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“That’s okay,” Tetsuo rasps. “That’s - that’s more than okay, Kimihiro." He knows that just the way he's saying his name is a confession in itself. "That’s perfect.” 

__

 

__

“Oh good,” Tsutsui says, relieved, his sigh gusting from him. Now that that’s settled, he stands up, strips off his shirt again, and for good measure, he shucks off his boxers before sinking back into Tetsuo’s lap. “Now, where were we?” 

__

 

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~ 

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Honoka-sama had made Tetsuo carry all the groceries up the stairs to the apartment. “Oh, my delicate arms are just so exhausted,” she had said, fluttering her eyelashes, which was absolute bullshit, because he had seen her hauling fifty-pound crates from the backroom without breaking a sweat. “Rule Five,” she had said, as she fished for her keys and Tetsuo laboured under the weight of what felt like every single vegetable from the produce section, “is that you love and take care of Kimihiro-chan for as long as you are able to.” 

__

 

__

Later, he’ll blame the ache in his arms for the tremble in his voice. 

__

 

__

“I promise, Honoka-sama,” he says. “I promise, I will. For as long as he’ll let me.” 

__

 

__

She flashes a smile at him. “Welcome to the family, Kaga-kun.” 

__

 

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__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slutty Muse: HO HO HO, you thought you were done with this world? Think again!!  
> Chen: *sweatdrop* I bow to your wisdom, Slutty Muse. All slutty stories flow through you. 
> 
> I… have no excuse for this. I wanted to write this scene but it had no place within the main body of the story, which is in Tsutsui’s POV. Happy Mother’s Day???


	3. After the Cultural Fair (Omake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "… Typical bastard Kaga. Just when Kimihiro gets up the energy to hate him properly, he has to go and say stuff like that."
> 
> Missing scene, episodes 4-5 of the anime.

**After the Cultural Fair**

 

After Shindou-kun (still confused, still draped in Kimihiro’s uniform jacket) goes off with his girlfriend, and after Kaga makes a stupidly dramatic exit with his shogi cronies trailing after him, Kimihiro is left mercifully alone, kneeling on the ground and picking up the tattered scraps of Touya Meijin’s tsumego book, which he’d dipped into his own allowance to buy. 

He shivers without his uniform jacket -  he’s still getting over a cold - and thinks of how typical it is for Kaga to stomp in and wreck everything, literally and figuratively and perpetually. Every time Kimihiro thinks that he’s got Kaga sorted out, that he’s a jerk and a bully and an enemy to Go-lovers everywhere (the _gum_! On the _goban_! He’s still seething over that), Kaga goes and does something that just - 

“Oi.”

Fabric hits him, blinds him. He yelps and flails, and when he emerges from underneath the cloth, he finds Kaga standing over him, arms akimbo, but without the grey-blue haori that had swirled from his shoulders before. Typical melodramatic bastard, walking around the school as if he just casually dressed like that every day, looking comfortable and confident in it - 

Kaga is already walking away, waving his hand behind him. “Give that back on Sunday,” he says, sounding bored. “If you get anything on it, you owe me a new one.”

Because Kimihiro is an idiot and has never been good at the mid-game, he finally realizes what he’s holding and that somehow jolts his mouth into going,  

“H-hey!” 

Kaga pauses. Turns his head ever so slightly, looks at Kimihiro through slitted eyes. “What?”

Tsutsui reaches for his anger from earlier, finds it. “You did an unnecessary thing back there. I didn’t ask you to-” _never mind_ the fact that he’d asked Kaga to play in the Go tournament with him just last week, face burning, mumbling at his shoes, certain he’d been rejected but desperate without any other players, _don’t think about that now_ \- “I didn’t ask you to do any of that.”  

Kaga snorts. He actually turns on his heel so he can look Kimihiro full on, contemptuous. “Your _face_ asked me that,” he said. “Your face said, ‘Please, great Kaga-sama, save me from my Go-less hell because I can’t even get three losers to commit to a club-‘“ 

Kimihiro spends more time than he’s proud of trying to think of ways to shut Kaga up, which is why it’s satisfying to say, “The shogi club will hate it.” 

A pause. 

There’s the slightest flash of hesitation in Kaga’s face before he’s all bluster again. “I’m the captain,” he said. “I can do whatever I want.” 

“But _I_ can’t.” 

The boys on the shogi club are all boisterous and built like a goddamn row of brick shithouses. While Kaga talks shit and thinks it’s funny to vandalize other people’s gobans and threatens to toss little sixth graders into ice cold pools, that’s all it usually is - just talk, and then a trouncing over a board. He’d probably think it beneath him to hit someone like Kimihiro, but his teammates don’t have the same problem.

 You’d think, Kimihiro has reflected, bitterly and more than once, that being super nerdy and enthusiastic about a traditional Japanese game would make you sympathetic to _other_ people who were super nerdy and enthusiastic about a _different_ traditional Japanese game, but life is not a wish-granting factory. The - _jocks_ \- in the shogi club seem to like having someone to look down on, someone to shove into lockers, to make themselves feel cooler. 

Not Kaga, though. Kimihiro doesn’t examine the thought too closely, but he just know that Kaga is… different, from that. 

It doesn’t change the fact that Kaga’s personality would be greatly improved if he was punched in the balls every once in a while. 

Kaga is quiet now, though. He’s been quiet for awhile.  

“I’ll thrash them,” he says, finally. “Anyone tries anything, and I’ll thrash them so hard at shogi that they’ll cry and wonder how they had time to pick on people when they should’ve been staying up all night practising to beat me.”  

… Typical bastard Kaga. Just when Kimihiro gets up the energy to hate him properly, he has to go and say stuff like that. 

There’s nothing that Kimihiro can say in response. 

So instead, he slides on the haori, putting his sleeves through the arms, the way that Kaga was too cool to do.  

When he looks up, there’s a - a _look_ just vanishing from Kaga’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Kimihiro can’t even name it. 

Kimihiro’s about to open his mouth to say - what? _Thank you? You’re not as much of a bastard as I thought? -_ when Kaga stabs a finger at him and shouts, “And don’t bring a joseki book to the tournament on Sunday! Books like that are for losers!” before he turns on his heel and finally walks away. The gait of his walk is oddly stiff, nothing like his usual saunter.  

So for good measure, Kimihiro yells after him, “You still owe me a new book of tsumego!” 

The haori is surprisingly warm. 


	4. After the Tournament (omake)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "People think Tsutsui's a push over, but Kaga knows better. He's a mean little fucker when he wants to be."
> 
> Missing scene, chapters 5-7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T, because I just think that Kaga would have the vilest of potty mouths. 
> 
> Again, names deliberately different to indicate point of view. Kaga thinks of himself as Tetsuo, and of Tsutsui as Tsutsui. Sorry those names are a bit similar!

 

People think Tsutsui's a push over, but Kaga knows better.  

He's a mean little fucker when he wants to be.  

Like, seriously. Who fucking murders someone by 20 moku in yose? _Who the fuck actually does that_?

~

After the Tournament, they get WacDonald’s, because the Brat makes this huge stink about how he missed getting takoyaki at the Cultural Fair. When Tetsuo says, breathing heavily through his nostrils, “ _Only winners get to eat!”_ (which works pretty well for the shogi club), Tsutsui just gives him the vilest of all stinkeyes. 

Then, like he’s goddamn Jekyll and Hyde, Tsutsui turns his softest, sweetest smile on the Brat and says, “Of course, Shindou-kun. We owe you for participating in the tournament with us.” 

Tetsuo’s about to argue that they’d owe him a lot more if they’d actually _won_ the damn thing, but Tsutsui cuts him with his eyes again, and - none of it’s worth the bother.   

“ _W_ hatever,” he says. “You’re paying for my food.” He vows to get the most expensive meal on the menu. 

They go to the WacDonald’s by the train station, and they’re in line when Shindou says, “I’ll get a table!” and bounces off with more of that annoying energy, which makes Tetsuo yell after him, “Yeah! Do that! Be useful for once!” 

 “Don’t be such a jerk!” Tsutsui hisses, elbowing him in the ribs, the point digging in. “He feels bad enough about his cover being blown.” 

Tetsuo heaves a sigh. “ _Che_ , what a waste. After he pulled it out of his ass like that. I thought giving him a motivational speech would be enough to-”

Tsutsui goes suspiciously still.  “What ‘motivational speech’ did you give?” 

“I told him you were in the bathroom, crying your eyes out because we had to win the tournament for your stupid club to be a thing,” Tetsuo says, peeved. “So that he would stop holding his dick and actually play the damn game, and-“ 

Tsutsui hits surprisingly hard. 

He also has surprisingly good aim, and gets Kaga right in the stomach. 

Kaga does his best to not look winded, but he ends up wheezing, “What the fuck?” 

“You bastard!” Tsutsui is yelling, as if they’re not in line at WacDonald's and as if people aren’t all around, staring at them. “That’s exactly what I _didn’t_ want him to know. I didn’t want him to feel all stressed out and pressured and-!”  

“So it’s okay for you to feel stressed out and pressured by yourself!?” Kaga yells. “That’s _bullshit_! A club isn’t just one person! It’s something that everyone has to build together!” 

There’s an incredibly awkward silence. 

“Uh,” the girl at the counter squeaks, in her bright mustard-yellow and coral-pink uniform. “WacDonald's, how can I help you?” 

Tetsuo gets a supersized meal with a triple thick chocolate milkshake, because he’s a bastard and because he can. 

~

They get back to their table, fuming. The Brat looks back and forth between them, and says, “Uh… guys…?”

Tetsuo plunks the Junior Chicken meal set down in front of the Brat. “Eat,” he says ominously, and the Brat obviously makes some kind of cost-benefit analysis in his head, shrugs, and then digs in.

The thing is, Tetsuo thinks, dragging his fries in his ketchup, is that the Go club right now basically is a one-person club. He still remembers the day last year, when a fellow seventh-grader had approached him. He’d had dark hair, big grey eyes, and a shy, hopeful look on his face. His uniform was too big for him, and he'd had a goban clutched under one arm. He’d said, “Hi, you’re Kaga Tetsuo, right? I saw you play Go once, against Touya Akira…. I wanted to start a Go club and I was wondering if you’d like to-“ 

So the next part he doesn’t really remember that well, but witnesses tell him - _Tsutsui_ has told him, furiously, repeatedly - that he broke Tsutsui’s goban in half over his knee. “It was my _aunt’s_ ,” Tsutsui had ranted, until Kaga had replaced it. 

And that’s about where they have been ever since. 

Tsutsui’s uniform is still big for him, and he’s still basically the only person at Haze who’s deluded enough to want to start a Go club, but he is different from back then. For one, he no longer looks at Kaga with that shy, hopeful smile that he’d greeted him with once, before he really knew Kaga at all.

~

Once the Brat’s done wolfing down his meal, which takes about zero seconds, he looks back and forth between them. 

“Uh…” he says. “Well, see you guys around, I guess. I have to catch my train.” He bounces up his from his seat, then turns on his heel and says with a grin, “Oh yeah! Thanks for letting me play with you guys today! It was really fun!” He runs off with a wave and a careless, “Ja, mata ne!” and Tetsuo is left sitting beside Tsutsui, who isn’t even looking at him. In fact, Tsutsui’s barely touched his food at all.

“Look,” Tetsuo says, now that the Brat is gone, “it’s fine. I told the Brat afterwards that I lied about everything, so. Your secret is safe with me.” 

That makes Tsutsui look at him. It’d be easier his look was all sharp and assessing, testing, but there’s an edge of softness there that makes Tetsuo’s skin prickle uncomfortably. 

“I didn’t ever really say thank you,” Tsutsui says, which is - _what_? _What the fuck_? “A club _isn’t_ just one person,” Tsutsui continues, his voice a little rueful. “It really is something that everyone has to build together. You’re right. It’s still my dream to make a Go club at Haze, and that dream wasn’t fulfilled today, but…” 

He smiles - a deep, pure smile, not at Kaga in particular, but at something far in the distance.  A small part of Kaga wonders, nonsensically, if it’s possible to feel jealous of a dream. 

“It feels a little closer now, because of you and Shindou-kun,” Tsutsui continues. “I don’t feel so alone in it, and that gives me the energy to make me keep chasing after it. So, thank you, Kaga-san.”

Tetsuo jumps. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Tsutsui call him “Kaga-san” before. His dumb, traitorous mouth says, “You’ve never called me Kaga-san before.”

Tsutsui flashes a smile at him - not that deep smile of before, something cheekier. “Well, you don’t really often do cool things that make you worthy of being called ‘Kaga-san.’ But you did today.” 

 “Che!” Tetsuo says. “Don’t call me _-san_. It sounds weird coming from you. Makes my skin crawl.” And he steals a fry in revenge. 

“Hey, I’m still eating that! Funny, I’m hungrier now than I was before…” And Tsutsui starts digging into his neglected Quarter Pounder. “Aw, but they forgot my Coke-”  

“Here.” Kaga shoves the rest of his gigantic chocolate milkshake at him. “It’s just going to go to waste,” he says, not making eye contact. “If you don’t want it, just throw it away-“

Tsutsui smiles for the third time, and Tetsuo isn’t quite sure how to categorize this one. It might be called “blinding.”

“Thank you, Kaga-san.” 

“Hey! I said don’t call me _-san_!”

“Hai, Kaga-san!” 

Yeah. Tsutsui’s a mean little fucker, all right.


End file.
